


Whump Anthology

by Proudmoore



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reader Insert, Torture, Whump, mckirk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 10:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16701118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Proudmoore/pseuds/Proudmoore
Summary: A collection of whump fics written for my 1250 follower celebration on Tumblr.





	1. McKirk - Torture

“They are not coming for you,” Kelvok said from the doorway as he entered Leonard’s holding cell.  “They would not waste the resources and risk an assault for one member of their crew.  Starfleet is nothing if not utilitarian.”

Leonard jerked his head at the sound, looking in the direction from which it had come.  The Klingon soldier who had been assigned to interrogate and torture him days earlier had returned and Leonard was on high alert, expecting more pain at any moment.  His body was weak and weary after nearly a week of assault and he’d long since lost track of the hours of the day.

“I’m not deluded enough to think they’d risk anything for me,” Leonard grunted.  “So I don’t know why you don’t just kill me already.”

“We have killed many,” Kelvok snarled.  “But you we are going to make an example of.  Death is tragic, but pain…  Pain is devastating.  Death is peaceful.  Pain is chaos, and fear, and if our body count has not been a powerful enough deterrent for your insipid Federation, then perhaps a showing of our brutality will be.”

As he spoke, Kelvok activated a holoscreen just outside of the cell.  He tapped a few buttons and stepped back, waiting for the transmission to go through.  When it did and the screen filled with an image of Jim on the bridge, Leonard turned his head away.  He didn’t want Jim to see what a mess he was, his face rough with stubble, his eyes red, his cheeks and forehead littered with nicks and bruises.

“Captain, I believe I have something that belongs to you,” Kelvok intoned, stepping out of the shot and gesturing to where Leonard was curled up in the corner of his cell, naked and shivering.

“Bones!”  Jim shouted, leaning forward in his chair, clearly torn between worrying openly for Leonard and maintaining his composure in front of his crew.

“Whatever he wants, don’t give it to him,” Leonard croaked.

Satisfied that Bones was alive, at least, Jim turned his attention back to Kelvok.

“If you return my crewman, I’ll grant you safe passage through any quadrant of Federation space you want,” Jim offered.

“You and I both know you do not have the authority to promise that, Captain,” Kelvok sneered.  “You are insulting my intelligence.”

Turning on his heel, Kelvok strode into Leonard’s cell, pulling a coiled up whip with a long fall and whisper-thin popper on the end of it off of his belt.  Letting it unfurl, he cracked it experimentally against the ground once, twice, and then advanced on Leonard.  With the holoscreen still capturing the scene, Kelvok brought the whip down hard, cracking it against the skin of Leonard’s thigh, drawing a shout of agony from the man.

At the sound, Jim lost all sense of composure.  He launched himself out of his chair, striding forward as though he could step through the screen and come to Leonard’s aid.

“You are committing an act of war against the Federation,” Jim warned.  “If you continue, we will have no choice but to fire on your ship.”

“Then you’ll be killing your precious crewman as much as any of us, and inciting the wrath of the entire Klingon empire,” Kelvok growled.  “Would you be so reckless?”

A vaguely amusing thought passed through Leonard’s mind at that.

 _It’s Jim Kirk you’re talking to_.

“And I do believe we have already committed an act of war against the Federation in taking one of your officers hostage,” Kelvok continued.  “So spare me your peacemaking narrative.”

“That’s no way to talk to a captain,” Leonard grunted, taking Kelvok’s attention off of Jim for a moment.

“Watch your tongue,” Kelvok snarled, cracking the whip again, catching Leonard on the hip.

Leonard gritted his teeth this time, groaning in pain and immediately covering the welted spot with his palm.  Tears stung at his eyes as his breathing came in short gasps and he flinched away when Kelvok rounded on him again.

“It will be a shame to kill you at the end of this,” Kelvok said, flashing a rare grin that looked more like a less severe version of his usual scowl.  “I like a man who can take a beating without complaint.”

Leonard glared at him, his countenance showing a resolve that he did not truly feel.  He watched Kelvok spin around again to address Jim, the whip still clutched in his hand with the fall trailing well off behind him.  As Kelvok and Jim exchanged words in a negotiation that Leonard knew would go nowhere, Leonard gathered all of his strength and pushed away from the wall he was sitting up against.

Getting onto his knees, Leonard crawled forward slowly, being careful not to make any noise.  It took him several long seconds to get within range of the whip and several more to get a firm grasp on the fall.  Once he’d wrapped some of its length around his palm, he gave the whip a yank, freeing it from Kelvok’s grasp and pulling it toward himself.

Kelvok reacted immediately and with a shout of rage.  He spun on his heel as Leonard scrambled to his feet and pulled a phase pistol out of his hip holster, aiming it at Leonard.  Leonard did his best to snap the whip in such a way that it would free the pistol from Kelvok’s grasp or at least throw off his aim, but he was unsuccessful.  Kelvok fired, and the last thing Leonard heard as the blast stunned him was Jim yelling something in the background.

When Leonard came around a while later, he was strapped to a hard surface with wide belts across his thighs, chest, and abdomen.  His wrists and ankles were secured, too, and try as he might, he couldn’t do much more than wiggle around.  He did try, however, and was rewarded with a rawness of his skin beneath the restraints.  Though he couldn’t see his arms or legs in his position, the wetness that was beginning to well up around the cuffs that held him told him he was likely bleeding from his efforts.

The door to the room flew open and Kelvok stormed in, watching Leonard with a murderous gaze.  He didn’t say a word as he approached Leonard, and he only stopped a moment to pick something up off of a tray that was outside of Leonard’s line of sight before continuing his approach.  As he came up to Leonard’s side, he held up a small, cylindrical device that glowed red hot at one end, letting Leonard catch just a glimpse of it before bringing it down and touching it to the skin of his collarbone.  

Leonard couldn’t stop the yell that tore from his throat as the brand seared his flesh.  It caused starbursts to explode in his vision and made his gag reflex act up.  He would have thrown up from the agony if Kelvok hadn’t removed the brand and pressed it to the inside of his forearm instead, bringing a new wave of pain and a fresh scream hot on its heels.

“I was just going to shoot you,” Kelvok commented as he pulled the brand away again, leaving Leonard panting and gasping.  “But after what you did earlier I have decided that I am going to continue causing you pain until your body starts shutting down.  Then I am going to let my healer bring you back from the brink of death and I am going to torture you all over again.  It will go on indefinitely, until such a time that even my healer’s skill cannot save you.  Then I will throw your corpse out of the air lock and leave you for your crew to find.”

Leonard was spared having to reply by another searing of his skin, this time on the thigh right over the welt he already had from the whipping earlier.  He threw his head back, cracking it firmly against the platform in an attempt to detract from the pain of the burns as they continued one by one until he felt like every square inch of him was on fire.

When Kelvok ran out of places to burn, he traded the brand in for a blade.  It was rusty, dulled from years of use and barely functional anymore, but it proved an effective tool to elicit sheer agony from Leonard as it came down on his skin and made a series of deep, bleeding cuts.

The pain of the cutting combined with the agony from the burns and the aching of his muscles from the phaser stun eventually made Leonard black out.  It was a welcome respite, and Leonard remained blissfully unaware of anything in his surroundings as his body recovered from the assault over the next several hours.

When he awoke again, it was with echoes of all of the pains that had been inflicted on him earlier in the day ringing throughout his body.  He was sticky with dried blood and stiff from lying supine and chained to the table.  He could hear footfalls, shouting, and phaser fire outside of his enclosure and his tried and tired mind couldn’t make sense of the noise.

Jerking at his restraints, Leonard attempted to get free but to no avail.  He hissed in pain as his pulling at the shackles strained his wrists and ankles, earning him nothing but further injury to the joints and renewed bleeding.  Groaning in frustration, he gave one final tug on each point of restraint and gave up, falling limp against the table to await his fate, whatever that may be in light of the fighting going on outside his four walls.

_Bones?_

Leonard thought he must have been going mad, hearing Jim’s voice somewhere in the distance.  Or maybe Kelvok had turned the comm screen back on and Jim was shouting at him from back on the Enterprise.  Either way, the sound was too good to be true and Leonard gave up hope even as he held onto a vision of Jim with a single tear escaping his eye and rolling down across his temple before dropping onto the table beneath him.

_Bones!_

The voice was closer the second time and Leonard shut his eyes tightly as if the action would chase away Jim’s specter.  It had quite the opposite effect, really.  With his eyes closed, the acuity of Leonard’s hearing increased and he swore he could hear Jim speaking frantically to someone just outside the door.  It was impossible, though.  Jim wouldn’t put his entire crew at risk for Leonard.  He couldn’t.  It would be irresponsible and unethical.

“Bones,” Jim all but shouted as he burst through the door to the torture chamber.  “Oh thank God.”

“Jim?”  Leonard croaked, his features furrowing in confusion.

“Open your eyes, Bones,” Jim instructed.  “Look at me.”

He wanted nothing more than to touch Leonard, but the sight of all of the ugly, oozing, infected slashes and burns on the doctor’s body made him fearful of causing the other man pain.  He settled for carding his fingers through Leonard’s hair, though even that caused the older man to grimace.

“I’ve got you,” Jim murmured before turning his head for just long enough to shout for a medic.

Leonard was hesitant to open his eyes.  He was afraid that if he did, the feeling of Jim’s hands on him would disappear and it’ll all have been a dream.  He trembled as Jim’s fingers combed through his matted hair over and over, and finally gave in to the urge to check in with reality.  He opened his eyes slowly, blinking the overhead lights away, and focused on the man standing over him.

“Jim,” he breathed.  “You put the whole crew in danger to come and fine me?”

Jim laughed through the tears that were welling in his eyes and nodded, leaning forward to press his lips to Leonard’s in a gentle kiss.

“I gave them the option of transferring to another ship if they weren’t ready to fight for you,” Jim explained.  “Everyone chose to stay.  I’m not the only one you matter to.”

As they waited for the medic, Jim moved to unstrap Leonard from the table he was lying on.  He started with the belts that held his legs and torso, and moved carefully on to the shackles that bound his joints.  He hissed as he saw how raw and broken Leonard’s skin was beneath the metal and made sure to handle Leonard with the utmost care.

“Do you think you can sit up?”  Jim asked.

Leonard groaned and nodded, taking the hand that Jim immediately offered and attempting to pull himself up.  He didn’t get very far, though, before a powerful dizziness swept over him and forced him back onto the bed, making his stomach turn.

“Are you okay?”  Jim asked, a little frantic.  “Is it the pain?”

Leonard shook his head, licking his too-dry lips.

“Dizzy,” he said by way of explanation.

Jim allowed Leonard to lie back without protest, letting out a relieved breath when the medic he’d called for jogged into the room with a kit in one hand and  tricorder at the ready in the other.  The medic stepped around to the other side of the table and scanned Leonard, concentrating on the assessment.

“We’re okay to move,” he pronounced a few moments later.  “There’s nothing requiring immediate intervention, but we need to get back to the ship.”

Jim nodded and looked down at Leonard again.

“Think you’re okay to sit up with our help?”  He asked.

Leonard grunted in the affirmative and held both of his hands up, however weakly, for the men to take.  He gritted his teeth against the agony when they clasped his arms but sat up anyway with just a few small noises of pain.  As he moved to swing his legs over the edge of the table and stand, however, the pain in his entire body sang our in a crescendo so powerful he couldn’t hold back a yell.

Jim looked over at the medic.

“Can’t you just give him something for the pain?”  He asked desperately, reaching up to gently rub Leonard’s back - the one part of him that was less injured than others.

“Sorry, Captain,” the medic said.  “He’s lost a lot of blood and if I miscalculate the dose even a little it could put him into respiratory arrest, and I’m not in the greatest position to deal with that in the middle of this kind of rescue situation.  He’ll get pain control as soon as we’re back on the Enterprise.”

Jim looked down at Leonard, searching for some kind of a rationalization against what the medic had said, but all he found was agreement.

“I’ll be okay, Jim,” Leonard promised.  “I’ve hung on this long, I can hang on a few more minutes now that you’re here.”

Jim smiled, love shining in his eyes, and leaned in to kiss Leonard again.  He lingered on his lover’s lips for a few seconds this time, hoping Leonard could draw strength from his affections.  When he pulled away, the small smile that graced Leonard’s lips nearly made him weep with relief.  He knew that Leonard had a very long way to go in dealing with the events of the past week, but the smile gave him hope that in time, things would go back to normal and Leonard would move past the trauma.  The smile proved to him that his Leonard - his stubborn, sarcastic, unconditionally loving Leonard - was still in there, and that meant more than any erasure of the physical marks of the torture Leonard had endured ever would.

“Let’s get you home, then,” Jim said softly.  “It’s time you let someone take care of you for a change.”


	2. McKirk - Injury

“C’mon Bones,” Jim called from down the trail.  “Keep up!”

Leonard rolled his eyes as he panted, jogging to keep up with Jim.  They were so close to the checkpoint he could feel it.  Just another couple of hours and survival training would be over.  They could get the hell out of the god forsaken forest, head back to the Academy, and take a real, long, hot shower to wash the stink of the woods off.  As much as he wanted to stop, the thought propelled Leonard and so he kept on pushing his limits, hiking along through the thick brush with his calves and hamstrings screaming at him all the way.

Reaching over his shoulder, he groped around for the canteen he’d filled the last time they’d been near a creek a couple of hours back.  He unscrewed it as he slowed a little, tipping it back and taking several long, grateful gulps.  It tasted a little off from the purification tablets he’d dropped into it to ensure any bacteria and parasites living it it were killed off, but it was cold and refreshing and he couldn’t complain.

Once he’d had his fill, Leonard stopped all together for a moment so that he could tuck the canteen back into his backpack.  He took a few deep, steadying breaths to calm his pounding heart and braced his hands on his hips as he gave his legs a few moments to relax.  His boots were rubbing uncomfortably and everything he was wearing was covered in sweat, but they were almost there.  He could hang on another couple of hours.

Steeling himself, Leonard took one last deep breath and was just about to start hiking after Jim again when he heard a scream.  It tore through the air, chasing birds from their boughs and echoing off of the escarpment just to the east.  It was a familiar scream.

“Jim!”  Leonard shouted, taking off at a run in the direction Jim had hiked.

He yelled the younger man’s name repeatedly as he ran but got no response at first.  His heart rate shot right back up from where he’d gotten it down to as he considered what terrible thing might have happened to make Jim scream and he was terrified of what he would find when he came over the lip of the hill he was running up.

Reaching the plateau at the top of the hill, Leonard scanned the horizon for Jim but saw nothing.  He broke into a jog again, calling Jim’s name once more, eyes furiously seeking movement or a flash of Jim’s survival suit.

“Down here,” Jim shouted brokenly.

Leonard could hear the tears and agony in Jim’s voice and he felt sick to his stomach.  He tried to orientate himself to figure out where the shout had come from when the ground beneath his feet turned from packed dirt to gravel.  Slipping, he nearly toppled over before coming to a stop mere feet before the edge of a cliff.

“Jim!”  Leonard shouted again, realizing at last what down here meant.  “I’m coming!”

Shrugging out of his backpack, Leonard dropped to the ground and crawled toward the cliff’s edge, digging the toes of his boots into the grass behind him for purchase as the ground sloped down a little, creating a blind drop.  He could see how Jim might have inadvertently jogged over the edge.

Peering over the lip and into the narrow canyon below, Leonard spotted Jim some twenty feet below, clutching his thigh, his leg bent at a completely unnatural angle around the middle of his shin.  Cursing inwardly, Leonard waved to get Jim’s attention.

“Don’t move,” he shouted into the shadows.  “I’ll be right there.”

Pushing back away from the edge, Leonard scrambled toward his backpack.  He pulled it open and took out his ropes kit.  He hated heights and hated having to repel down from them even more, but Jim needed him and so he pushed the fear aside, harnessing himself in.  It took him only a minute or two and then he was ready to go.  Pulling his backpack on once again, he tied himself in to the nearest tree, checked his ropes and dashed to the edge.  

Sending up a quick prayer, Leonard applied his guide and brake hands and leaned back over the edge.  He shut his eyes, slowly stepping backward, pushing himself away from the canyon wall and descending into the crevasse.  It took him a couple of minutes to walk down the wall and he nearly tipped back over his brake hand once or twice, but eventually he made it to the ground.  

Letting out some slack, Leonard freed himself from the rope and jogged over to Jim.  Throwing his backpack to the ground next to the fallen blond, he immediately reached out to grasp Jim by the shoulders, urging the younger man to look at him through the panic and the tears.

“Hey,” he said gently, just firmly enough to get Jim’s attention without spooking him.  “Just look at me - breathe.”

Trembling from the shock to his system the injury had caused, Jim slowly turned his gaze up to look at Leonard, doing his best to slow down his breathing.  When he did, Leonard smiled as reassuringly as he could and squeezed Jim’s shoulders gently.

“Okay, good,” he assured the blond.  “That’s good, just keep breathing like that for me.  I’m going to get you all taken care of, but I need you to talk to me, alright?”

Jim nodded and Leonard gave him one last reassuring squeeze of the shoulders.

“I’m going to give you a little something for the pain,” Leonard explained.  “I can’t give you anything too strong out here, but it’ll take the edge off.”

Jim nodded as Leonard moved over to his backpack, unpacking his med kit and assembling a hypo in the span of seconds.  It was so second nature that he could have done it in his sleep.  Locking the med cartridge into place, he turned back to Jim, pressed the hypo to the other man’s neck, and discharged it.  Within moments, Jim sagged in relief as the pain medication eased his agony enough that he could breathe.

“I’m going to take a look at your leg,” Leonard explained.  “See if I can’t splint it up a bit to make you more comfortable until they can beam us out of here.”

“Be careful,” Jim begged.  “Please.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’,” Leonard assured the younger man.  “I’ve got you.  Just hold still.”

Jim agreed wordlessly and braced himself, turning his gaze skyward so he didn’t have to watch Leonard attempt to put his mangled leg back together.  Leonard pulled out a tricorder, quickly scanning Jim to assess his overall condition before turning his focus to the younger man’s injured leg.

Watching Jim out of the periphery of his gaze for signs of his panic returning, Leonard got to work on removing JIm’s boot.  Once he had, he pulled his sock off, too, and checked to make sure there was still blood flow to the foot.  Assuring himself that the circulation was intact, Leonard moved on.  He was tempted to cut away Jim’s pant leg to expose the injury, but out in the wilderness that would only increase Jim’s chances of infection.  Besides, the tricorder had already highlighted an open, comminuted fracture.

Deciding that reducing the fracture in the field was too dangerous and pointless as Jim still had good circulation to his foot, Leonard settled instead on splinting it.  He wanted the leg as stable as possible before he activated his emergency beacon and got them beamed out of there.  At least with it splinted it was less likely to hurt during and after transport.

“Okay, Jim,” he said slowly, waiting until he had the blond’s attention before speaking further.  “I’m going to splint your leg and we’re going to get out of here.”

“But we’ll fail,” Jim groaned, clearly upset by the prospect.

Leonard shook his head.

“No we won’t,” Leonard assured him.  “You don’t have to be the first to the rendezvous point; all that gets you is bragging rights.  Hell, you don’t have to get to the rendezvous at all.  The only thing you’ve got to do is show that you know your stuff well enough to survive long enough to get rescued.”

“Yeah?”  Jim asked, his voice cracking a little from the strain of the injury.

Leonard nodded.

“Yeah,” he replied.  “Now just hold still, I’m going to make this feel a whole lot better.”

Jim gave Leonard the go ahead and quickly averted his gaze as the doctor got to work.  Pulling some lightweight splinting material out of his med kit, Leonard worked as quickly and carefully as he could to brace the fracture without moving it around too much.  He could hear Jim panting as the pain was undoubtedly exacerbated by his actions, but he powered through so that he could finish more quickly rather than drawing the process out.

“There,” he announced a minute later as he secured the last strap on the splint.  “Done.  It’s not ideal, but it’ll hold you until we can get to a hospital.”

“Thanks,” Jim mumbled, looking a little worse for wear.

“Now just relax,” Leonard instructed.  “I want you to try to keep your blood pressure down so you’re not bleeding into that leg too much.  We’ll be out of here in a minute.”

“Okay,” Jim said shakily.

Quickly throwing everything back into his backpack, Leonard pulled both his and Jim’s equipment closer so it would be easier for the transporter to lock on to everything and then he pulled out his emergency beacon.  Activating it with a tap, he shuffled in closer to Jim and put an arm around the younger man’s shoulders to await their beam out.

“You’re going to take care of me, right?”  Jim asked quietly.  “I’ll be okay?”

Leonard leaned in to press a kiss into Jim’s hair.

“Of course I will, darlin’,” he promised as a swirling maelstrom of golden transporter threads began whirling around them.  “Always.”


	3. Scotty x Reader - Lightning Strike

“Scotty!”  Jim shouts from the shuttle’s steering console, glancing out the windows on either side of the cockpit.  “We’ve blown our port engine!”

“What’s this we business?!”  Scotty calls in return, already rushing to the port control panel to attempt a fix.  “Beg pardon, Captain, but yer the one flyin’ us through the storm o’ the century!”

You grit your teeth and cling to your seat as the shuttle’s flight becomes erratic, jarring you against the restraint harness.  You watch Scotty as he clings to a hand hold on the wall with one hand, doing his best to rewire things with the other.  His tool kit is sliding around on the ground as Jim attempts to level out your rapid descent and he’s swearing enough to make a sailor blush.

As his kit slides away and gets snagged on the back row of seats in the shuttle, you decide that against Scotty’s orders and your own better judgment, you need to do something to help.  Unstrapping your harness, you dig your fingers into your seat and pry yourself out of it again the g-force that’s pushing you down.  You grit your teeth and manage to get into the aisle between two rows of seats, pulling yourself along as quickly as you can to get to where Scotty’s tool kit is hooked.

“I though’ I told ye to stay in yer seat,” Scotty barks at you as he notices you creeping toward the back of the shuttle.

You glance over at him briefly before crawling into the aisle where his tools are stranded.

“I was obeying under protest,” you explain.  “Save it, Monty; you can give me a tongue lashing when we’re back on the ground.  Alive.”

You don’t see Scotty rolling his eyes as you duck behind the seats to get low enough to the ground to free the tool kit, but you can imagine the face he’s making in your general direction.  Groping around blindly under the seat, you finally manage to unhook the bag’s strap and tug it free.  Gathering the strap in your hand, you stand up again and brace yourself against the seats in front of you as you move in Scotty’s direction to hand the bag over.

You step into the aisle and yelp as the shuttle gives a sudden lurch, pitching you forward onto the floor.  You land with a grunt, your hand still clutched tightly around the strap, and elbow-drag your way over to Scotty, breathing slowly and evenly as a stitch prickles in your side.

“Are ye alright?”  He asks, reaching to give you a hand up.

You take it and pull yourself onto your knees, bracing yourself against the wall as you hand over the tools.

“Fine,” you say breathlessly.  “Just a little winded.”

Scotty nods.

“Since I’ve got ye now, I could use a hand,” he says.

“What do you need me to do?”  You ask.

You pay attention as Scotty instructs you, nodding your understanding before reaching into the tool bag for a set of wire clippers.  Bracing your feet against the row of seats beside you, you hold on tight with one hand and start clipping the wires Scotty had indicated with the other.  As you do, Scotty immediately gets to work on rewiring the engine in hopes of kick-starting the auxiliary power supply.

As you position the cutters to clip through the final wire, you hear a few clicks somewhere behind the control panel and feel the hairs on your arm stand up on end.  Before you can react, you clip the wire anyway and feel electricity seize your body as the engine roars to life, the power suddenly having been restored.

You hear Scotty yell something but you can’t make out what it is over the whine of the current flowing through your body.  You’re in absolute agony for a few moments longer and then suddenly, as quickly as it had started, it stops.  Your muscles give out completely as the current blinks out and you slump to the shuttle floor, sliding  along until you hit a bank of seats, dazed.

“Y/N!”  Scotty hells, bounding over and dropping to his knees beside you.

He takes your face in his hands, his expression fearful as he waits for a reaction from you.

“What happened?”  Jim yells from the cockpit.  “I had power back for a second and I lost it again!”

“Y/N got a nasty shock,” Scotty calls back.  “I had to cut the power to free her.  Yer goin’ to have to land this shuttle without that engine, Jim!”

Jim curses from the cockpit but agrees, instructing Scotty to take care of you and to hold on tight as he does his best to bring the shuttle in at a low angle.  

Your entire body feels like it’s charged with static and there are pins and needles in your extremities.  Groaning, you try to wiggle your fingers and toes to dispel the sensation, but for now all you can manage is to look up at Scotty as the lights in the cabin flicker when another bolt of lightning hits the shuttle.

“How’re ye doin’?”  Scotty asks, settling in beside you, moving one hand to grip your hip and the other to grip a handle on the wall to hold the two of you steady.

“‘M fine,” you mumble.

“Good,” Scotty nods.  “Tha’s good.  Just hang in there; it’ll all be over soon.”

You nod weakly and close your eyes against the wave of nausea that’s washing over you - the last thing you want to do now is throw up all over your boss and boyfriend.  Breathing slowly and evenly, you try to ignore the sounds of the storm just outside the shuttle and Jim’s constant string of curses from up front.

“This is going to get a little bumpy!”  Jim warns.  “Brace for impact!”

Scotty leans in over you, covering your body with his in hopes that it’ll lessen the force of the crash.  The shuttle hits the ground seconds later and bounces along for a short distance.  The bouncing action causes your head to smack into the floor as your neck muscles aren’t strong enough to brace it yet and you black out before the shuttle even skids to a stop.

Once he’s sure the shuttle has stopped rocking, Scotty sits up with a wince and looks down at you, immediately realizing that something is wrong.  Grasping you by the shoulders, he shakes you carefully, trying to rouse you as he calls your name.  After unclipping his harness, Jim stumbles back into the cabin, leaning against the wall as he looks down at the two of you.

“What happened?”  He asks.

Scotty’s hands are moving frantically, searching for any traces of injury, feeling for your pulse.  He sags in relief when he finds it easily, though it’s too fast and erratic for his liking.

“I think the landing knocked her out,” he explains.  “We need to get her back to Enterprise.”

“No can do,” Jim says apologetically.  “There’s too much interference with this storm.  They can’t beam us out until it passes.”

Scotty’s expression falls even further as he frets over you, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, watching your chest to ensure you keep breathing steadily.  As the minutes go by, Jim gets busy looking through the shuttle’s on-board med kit for anything that might be useful.  Short of a feather-light emergency blanket, there’s very little of use in it.

As Scotty continues trying to gently rouse you, Jim covers you with the blanket and patches up the electrical burn on your palm as best he can.  It’s all he can do until he can get you back up to sick bay and so he sits back against the nearby bulkhead, watching Scotty keep vigil at your side.

As the minutes tick by, Scotty grows increasingly agitated, shifting anxiously from knee to knee, repeatedly checking on you to make sure you’re stable.  When you finally start to regain consciousness he sends up a silent thank you to whatever powers in the universe have brought you back to him.

“You gave me quite a scare, love,” he murmurs.  “How’re ye feelin’?”

“Wha,” you say weakly.  “What happened?”

“We crashed,” Scotty explains slowly.  “There’s a storm ragin’ outside.  We’ve got tae weather it here; Enterprise cannae beam us aboard in this.”

“Oh,” you rasp.  “Okay.”

“Are ye comfortable?”  Scotty asks.  “Aside from bein’ on the floor?”

You groan as you shift a little bit, having regained most of the feeling in your extremities.

“Yeah,” you confirm.  “Everything hurts, though.”

“I’m sorry,” Scotty says sadly.  “I wish I could help, but I’m no’ sure it’s safe to give ye anything in this condition an’ we cannae get in touch with Dr. McCoy to ask.”

You nod in understanding.

“S’okay,” you assure him.  “Can… Can you come lie with me?”

 His expression brightens a little at the prospect of doing something to help make you more comfortable.

“O’course,” he agrees.

Shifting off of his knees, Scotty lies down on the floor and shifts in next to you.  You lift the edge of the emergency blanket covering you to make room for him and scoot in even closer when he settles, pressing into his chest.  He wraps an arm around you and very gently strokes your back, not wanting to apply so much pressure as to exacerbate any of your aches and pains.  As he pets you, you press your forehead to his chest and inhale, the scent of his cologne filling your nose and mingling with the sharp tangs of engine grease and metal.

“Much better,” you breathe softly, feeling some of your aches melt away at his heat and touch.

As you lie in Scotty’s arms, you smile softly and let yourself relax in spite of the occasional crashes of thunder overhead and rattlings of the shuttle as the winds whip by.  The thunderclaps are growing less and less frequent, but even if they weren’t you’d be content to just lie in Scotty’s arms, safe and sound.  Reaching up, you splay a hand on his chest just so you can feel more of him and he instinctively holds you a little tighter in response.

“The storm’s letting up,” Jim says a few minutes later.  “I’m going to head up front to try and establish communications.”

“Let me know if you need anythin’,” Scotty says.

Jim shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says with a smile.  “You just take care of Y/N for me.  I’ve got it.”

Scotty smiles and nods, turning his attention back to you.

“I’ve got ye,” he assures you softly.  “I won’t let anythin’ happen to ye.”

“I know,” you mumble softly.  “Thanks, Monty.”

He shifts to pull you into a more secure position against his chest and leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for a few moments.

“Don’t mention it,” he whispers.  “I’ve got a reputation tae uphold, after all.”

You chuckle softly and poke him in the chest as the sound of raindrops hitting the shuttle’s hull dies down, suspending the two of you in welcome silence.

“No you don’t,” you tease.  “You big softy.”

“Aye,” Scotty agrees.  “I suppose yer right.”

As you smile once again, you can hear Jim in the cockpit, relaying your coordinates to the Enterprise.  As the familiar buzz of the transporter wraps around you and Scotty, you can’t help but finally well and truly relax.

You’re going home.


	4. Kirk x Reader - Interrogation

You watch the holoscreen in front of you with your arms crossed over your chest, waiting for any sign that your captive is awake.  He’d lost consciousness a while ago while your associate had played bad cop and roughed him up a little for the information you were after.  He hadn’t said a word under duress and so you doubt he’ll talk at the mercy of any other tactic, but you have some good cop in you and you decide to try anyway.

Turning your back on the holoscreen, you stride out of your office and head for the infirmary aboard your ship.  You pick up a med kit and hustle off toward the interrogation room you’ve got James T. Kirk chained up in, intent on using some modicum of charm to break through to him.

You reach the door to the interrogation room a few minutes later and pause outside of it, nodding to the security guard outside of it and punching a code into the keypad on the wall to let yourself in.  As you step inside, you survey the still-unconscious man strapped to the chair before you.  Circling around, you turn the harsh spotlights in front of the chair on, illuminating the various cuts, scrapes, and sores on the captain’s face.

Moving in closer now that you’re better able to see, you kneel beside him and set the med kit down on the floor.  Opening it up, you assemble the things you’ll need to tend to his wounds, gloving up before soaking some gauze in antiseptic and reaching for one of his hands.  It’s awkward with his arms tied to his sides but you manage, slowly clearing away bits of dried blood, dirt, and grime.

Finishing up there, applying a salve to speed healing, you move to the other side and make quick work of his other hand, too.  Finally, you get to your feet once more and move to work on his face.  As you dab at a deep laceration on his cheek, his expression twists into one of discomfort and you realize he’s about to wake up.  Pulling back for a moment, you allow consciousness to claim him and stoop down, leveling your gaze with his.

“Welcome back, Captain,” you say neutrally, waiting to gauge his response.

“I’m not telling you anything,” Jim spits, groaning as he attempts to pull at his restraints in vain.

“I’m not asking you anything,” you say with a shrug.  “Just here to make sure you don’t die of infection.”

He watches you owlishly as you move forward again to finish up tending to his face.  He endures the stinging of the antiseptic stonily and gives no reaction as you apply the antibiotic salve, either.  It’s only once you step away to pack up the med kit that you see his shoulders sag a fraction, the tension and anticipation of further attack leaving him for a moment.

“Why do you want to know about the Narada anyway?”  Jim asks.  “It was just a mining vessel.”

“You and I both know that’s not true, Captain,” you say, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.  “A simple mining vessel doesn’t just vanish into a black hole of its own creation.”

“The Narada didn’t create that black hole,” Jim says firmly.

“Ah, see?”  You say with a proper smile, turning back to face Jim as you pull off your gloves.  “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

You stalk closer to him and he watches you as you prowl around his chair.  Crossing the room, you pull another chair that’s tucked up against the far wall over and set it across from him.  Taking a seat, you lean against the backrest and meet Jim’s gaze again, studying him thoughtfully.

“Their sensors must have failed,” Jim says plainly.  “The black hole was always there, the Romulans just didn’t detect it in time to avoid it.”

Jim observes you as he speaks, all the while silently surveying his options, considering whether there are any weaknesses in his restraints that might make escape possible.

“Our contact at Starfleet has given us a very different version of the story,” you say smoothly.  “We want the red matter, Captain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jim says with a scowl.

“We don’t want to use it,” you explain.  “We want to destroy it.  Not even Starfleet’s defenses are infallible, and keeping something so dangerous for any purpose, peaceful as your intentions may be, is stupid at best.”

Jim’s expression hardens.

“Even if we did have any record of something like that,” Jim ventures.  “We wouldn’t be the only ones.”

You nod, leaning forward and propping your elbows on your knees so you can get in closer to him.

“Yours isn’t the first organization we’ve targeted,” you explain.  “And it won’t be the last.”

Jim’s not sure why, but as he holds your gaze, he has the uncanny feeling that he can trust you.  He can’t necessarily trust what you’re telling him, but something about you intrigues him and he relaxes once again, letting out a long breath.

“If you think kidnapping and interrogating me is a sign of good faith, you’re not so smart yourself,” Jim says with a shrug.  “Besides, I’m not high up enough on the ladder to be of any use to you, so if you could just let me go, that’d be great.”

“Any information is better than no information,” you say lightly.  “And you were an easy target.”

Jim grimaces inwardly as he recalls being beamed out of the alley beside his hotel on Risa as he made his way back to his room after a few drinks at a bar down the road.

“How’d you find me, anyway?”  Jim asks.

You shake your head.

“You ask a lot of questions for someone on the receiving end of an interrogation,” you say, bemused.  “The Enterprise is hard to miss.  She’s an impressive vessel.”

Jim nods ans shifts around in his chair.

“Think you can loosen these restraints a little?”  He asks.

You consider him briefly, chewing your lip before reaching into your pocket.  Without fanfare, you silently activate an electromagnetic pulse from a small device in your jacket and wait a few moments before quickly rising to your feet.

“We don’t have much time,” you say hurriedly, reaching for the ties that are binding the captain to his chair.

“What?!”  Jim barks, his gaze shifting back and forth between your hands and your face as you work as fast as you can to untie him.

“I’ve knocked out the audiovisual feed for this room,” you explain.  “We have a couple of minutes before someone notices and comes looking for us.”

“What are you talking about?”  Jim queries further.

“If they find out I helped you escape, they’ll kill me,” you say hastily.  “So once I get you to the transport deck, you’re going to take my phaser, stun me, and beam out of here.”

“Wait,” Jim says as you finally loosen his ties completely.  “I can’t leave you here.”

You shake your head.

“I’ll be fine, Captain,” you assure him.  “But you need to get back to your ship, round up your crew, and get away from here as quickly as you can.  They’ll come looking for you, but I think I can convince my captain to stop giving chase if you warp to the Gamma quadrant.  Our ship doesn’t have warp technology nearly as advanced as yours, and that would put us too far out of the way of our other targets.”

“I’m not just going to let you beat this information out of someone else,” Jim says firmly as you take his hand and tug on it to force him to follow you out of the room.  “This ends here.”

He trudges along hurriedly behind you, ducking behind the occasional beam to keep out of sight as the two of you make your way toward the transporter room.  You manage to make it relatively unscathed as your ship runs with a skeleton crew, but just as you’re about to direct Jim up onto the platform, having punched in the coordinates, your ship’s head of security enters the room, his weapon drawn.

“I got a notification about unauthorized transporter access,” the guard says grimly.  “I expected better from you, Y/N.”

You’re about to speak in your defense when Jim reaches for the phaser at your hip.  His other arm wraps around your chest, pulling you back up against him as he points the phaser at your temple.

“Let us go,” Jim says, his voice deadly calm.  “Or I’ll shoot her.”

You know even from just the brief interaction you’ve had that Jim would never hurt you, and the threat doesn’t seem to register on the guard’s radar, either.

“Go ahead,” the guard says with a shrug.  “It’ll save me having to do it when the captain finds out about her letting you out.”

You can feel Jim moving behind you, edging toward the transporter platform, your hip brushing the console on the way.  The movement is slight and subtle and goes unnoticed by the guard.  You hold your breath in anticipation as you feel Jim’s arm tighten around you slightly and the next thing you know, he’s swinging his phaser arm away from you and toward the other man.  He squeezes off a round and you watch your colleague crumple to the ground, stunned.

“Come on,” Jim says hurriedly, letting you go and reaching for your hand instead.

You resist, torn between fear of what will happen if you go and what will happen if you leave.

“We’ll never get away,” you say hesitantly.

“What is this ship capable of?”  Jim asks.  “Warp five?  Six?”

You nod.

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Then they’ll never catch us,” he assures you.  “We’ll be in another quadrant before they leave this solar system, and there’s a place for you on my ship if you’re looking to turn over a new leaf.”

You hesitate again.  It’s only for a split second, but it feels like an eternity as your heart beats a frantic tarantella in your chest and your mind races a mile a minute.  Eventually, you go with your instinct - the strange gut instinct that tells you to trust Jim - and follow him onto the transporter.  You close your eyes as it senses your presence and goes to work, scattering the two of you into nothing but molecules and beaming you away.

You glance around as you come back together in the Enterprise’s transporter room and try to duck the curious stares of the people gathered there.  You slowly follow behind Jim as he steps off of the platform and onto the deck plating, staying close as he presses a comm button on the wall and opens a channel to the bridge.

“Mr. Sulu, I need you to get us out of here,” he orders.  “Head for Starbase sixteen, maximum warp.”

“Aye, Captain,” Mr. Sulu’s voice comes over the comm.

As the ship comes about and goes to warp, Jim turns to look at you, swatting away the prying hands and instruments of a man in blue who looks to be the ship’s CMO.  As you meet his gaze, you see warmth, reassurance, and a spark of something more there and all at once you feel safe.  You’re still not sure why you trust Jim so much, but you just know he’s going to look out for you and the look you give him in return is brimming with a gratitude you know you’ll never be able to express.

“Let’s go get you settled in for the ride,” Jim suggests.

You nod and follow him out of the room, letting out a long, relieved breath as you enter the next chapter of your life with renewed confidence, shutting the door on the memories of your misdeeds past.


	5. Kirk x Reader - Alien Attack

“As far as I can tell, this isn’t the kind of species we should be attempting to make first contact with,” you whisper to Jim.

The two of you, Lieutenant Uhura, and a two man security detail are on a reconnaissance mission, crouched in the thick ring of bushes and trees on the outskirts of a previously uncontacted civilization.  From what you’ve observed so far you’re certain the race has space travel capabilities not unlike those of Earth in the early twenty first century, but they also seem like a violent people.

“How can you tell?”  Jim asks.

“The hieroglyphs carved into the posts near the gate to the encampment seemed to depict conquest,” you explain.  “I’m also reasonably certain some of them depict a battle with visitors from another planet that ended in a whole lot of bloodshed.”

“Maybe the visitors were hostile?”  Jim suggests.

Uhura shakes her head, glancing at the PADD in her hands.

“I think I’ve managed to translate some of what they’re saying,” she explains.  “Y/N is right.  This ritual they’re executing - I think it’s in celebration of a war; a fairly recent one, at that.”

“If I may,” you interject.  “My formal recommendation is that we withdraw and report our impressions to the admiralty; let them make the call.”

Jim looks like he’s considering arguing, but eventually he nods, deferring to your and Uhura’s better judgment.  Flipping his communicator open, he’s about to make the call to the Enterprise to beam the lot of you up when he’s flung forward.  The communicator skitters away from his outstretched hand as he lands face-first on the forest floor and you spin around to see what’s upset his balance.  When you turn, you come face to face with a group of a half dozen or so heavily armed men from the encampment and they’ve all got murder in their eyes.

One of the soldiers begins yelling something in their language and you can see Uhura straining to understand.  He gestures to Jim with one hand as he points a gun at you with the other and you don’t know what to do.  Glancing around at the security guards with you, you look for clues as to what you should do.

As you panic inwardly, Jim starts to scramble to sit up.  He gets up onto his knees and slowly turns around, facing the soldiers with his hands up.  As he does so, his communicator suddenly comes to life, broadcasting a message from on board the ship.

_Captain, do you read me?_

It’s Spock’s voice.

_We have received an alert that a member of your landing party has activated an emergency beacon.  As per protocol, we will beam you aboard in one minute unless we receive any orders to the contrary._

The soldier holding the gun level with the middle of your forehead, whom you assume to be the leader, gestures to the communicator and begins shouting again, gesturing for his soldiers to take hold of your crew.  As one of them storms toward you, Jim holds up his hands and starts trying to talk to the soldiers advancing on you.

“My name is Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the USS Enterprise,” he explains as slowly and clearly as he is able to in a state of heightened adrenaline.  “We were sent to your planet to initiate first contact by Starfleet, a member of the United Federation of Planets.  We come in peace.”

The soldier seems to take his words as hostile with their meaning being lost in translation.  Before Jim even knows what’s happening, the soldier raises his weapon and depresses the trigger, pumping off several rounds of ammunition.  You’re at an advantage at the angle you’re at and you see what’s about to happen just before it does.  You launch yourself at Jim and push him out of the way as the first few bullets miss the two of you.  You feel another few catch you in various parts of your arm and shoulder, however, and you scream as the two of you fall.

Jim is yelling your name but all you can hear is ringing in your ears from the gun blasts and the echoes of your own screams inside of your head.  You shut your eyes against the agony and feel a tingling against your skin.  It’s a familiar feeling and you know instinctively that it’s the transporter’s warm, golden light wrapping around you and whisking you away back to the ship.

You cry out again as you hit the deck and you moan as you feel hands land on your shoulders, slipping in the blood trickling steadily from your wounds.

 _Oh, God, so much blood_.

“Bones!”  Jim shouts from where he’s leaning over you.  “We need to get her to sick bay.  Now!”

A team of nurses rush forward at Dr. McCoy’s side and all of a sudden you feel several more sets of hands join Jim’s on your body.  You cry out wordlessly in pain as you’re moved onto a stretcher and you can hear Dr. McCoy giving orders but none of it is making sense to you.  Tears are streaming down your face as the stretcher glides along toward the turbo lift and you wince as you feel a pinch at the side of your neck.  Seconds later your world fades to black and the pain finally, blissfully, ebbs with it.

Your awakening several hours later is a very gradual one.  At first, the anaesthetic haze you’re in is so profound that you’re not even sure where up is, and the voices all around you sound like they’re coming at you from underwater.  As you slowly swim through the pea soup of brain fog towards the surface, you start to feel twinges of pain and hands on you.  Without context, the sensations throw you into anxiety, though alertness is still fleeting.  Somewhere, a frantic beeping starts up and a chair scrapes against the floor.

“Bones!”  Jim exclaims.  “What is it?  What’s wrong?”

“She’s fine, Jim,” the doctor soothes.  “Just coming out of sedation.  She’ll settle.  Talk to her.”

You feel another set of hands land on you, taking one of your hands.  They squeeze gently there and stay clasped on as the man they belong to starts talking.

“Y/N?”  Jim says softly.  “Can you hear me?  You’re safe.  You’re back on the Enterprise; you’re in sick bay.”

Consciousness begins to come more quickly and you furrow your eyebrows as you try to break through the last of the confusion.  JIm’s here.  Jim’s talking to you.  You’re safe. 

As the thought sinks in, your body relaxes and the alarm ringing in the background begins to settle, eventually fading out entirely.  You slowly try to open your eyes but your eyelids feel heavy and so even at your best your gaze is half-lidded and dimmed by a latticework of eyelashes.

“What’s going on?”  You mumble tiredly, slurring your words a little before the anaesthetic has had a chance to wear off.

“You were shot,” Jim explains.  “But you’re going to be fine.  Bones got all of the bullet fragments out.  All you need to do is rest.”

The memories begin coming back to you piece by piece and as a flash of the last thing you remember before hitting the ground comes back to you, you gasp sharply and try to sit up.  You fail miserably and wind up landing right back against the bio bed, groaning as the newly closed bullet wounds twinge from the impact.

“What about you?”  You ask, concentrating so that you’re enunciating more clearly.

“Me?”  Jim asks, confused.  “I’m fine, angel.  Don’t you worry about me.”

Leonard rolls his eyes from where he’s making note of your vitals.

“The question shouldn’t come as a surprise,” Leonard chips in.  “Considering your usual state of affairs.”

Jim glares daggers at Leonard for a moment before returning his attention to you, gently picking up the hand of yours that he’s holding and bringing it to his lips.  He brushes a soft kiss over your knuckles and nuzzles his cheek against them, holding your hand there for a long moment as if to reassure himself that you’re really back with him and recovering.

You attempt to shift to get a better look at him but it’s still too painful and you groan softly, giving up and instead urging him closer with a wave of your hand.  He shuffles in as close to the bed as he can get and still you wordlessly insist he get closer.  His eyes light up with understanding as he realizes that you want him to get up on the bed with you but he looks to Dr. McCoy first.  Thankfully, the CMO appears to have figured out what you’re angling for.

“Go ahead,” he tells Jim.  “You won’t hurt anything.”

He turns his attention to you instead.

“I’ll get you something a little stronger for the pain,” he says softly, turning quickly and disappearing from sight.

As the doctor leaves the two of you alone, you grit your teeth and shift over to the side of the bio bed away from Jim, making some room for him.  Once you’re clear, he makes sure he’s not going to lie on your IV line or any other wire before climbing carefully in beside you.  He gives you a hand in sitting up just a little ways so that he can put his arm under your head, letting you use his bicep as a pillow as you curl in toward him.

As you make yourself comfortable, Dr. McCoy returns and quietly administers a hypo before once again taking his leave.  Once you and Jim are finally, properly alone, you sigh contentedly and let your eyes flutter closed as the pain medication eases all of your discomfort.  Jim presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss.

“You scared me to death,” he admits quietly.  “There was so much blood, I thought for sure…”

“I’m fine, Jim,” you murmur, sleep tugging at your consciousness.

“But you almost weren’t,” he protests.  “You almost died, Y/N.”

You shrug weakly, pressing your face closer in to the crook of his neck, letting his heat put you at ease.

“You would have done the same for me,” you reason.

“I’m the captain, it’s my job,” Jim insists.  “Now, get some rest.  If I don’t let you sleep, Bones’ll kill me.”

You smile tiredly and nod.

“But we’re not done talking about this,” you hedge.  “We’re going to sit down and have a long conversation about taking stupid risks once I’m better.”

Jim chuckles softly and nods, pulling the blanket up around you to keep you warm and cozy.  As he gently strokes your arm with the hand you’re not lying on, you let yourself give in to the effects of the painkillers Dr. McCoy has given you.  You quickly succumb to the seductive draw of the drugs and fall into a deep, dreamless, restful sleep.  It’s the first of what you’re sure will be many steps along the road to recovery, but with Jim by you’re side, you’re sure you can get through anything.


	6. Bones x Reader - Near Freezing

The first thing you notice when consciousness returns to you is the large gash that’s opened up in the hull plating next to you.  The second are the dancing, swirling snowflakes blowing in through the breach, glistening in the moonlight as it’s reflected into the shuttle’s cabin off the vast fields of snow outside.

 _Powder for days_ , you recall, remembering the last thing you’d seen before your shuttle’s wing had clipped an outcropping and sent you into a tailspin.  You can’t really remember how you’d managed to get into trouble or, even more worrisome, why you’d been in the shuttle in the first place, but you do recall the endless stretches of snow and ice before you as your shuttle had plunged into a valley and knocked you unconscious.

 _Enterprise to Lieutenant Y/L/N, come in_.

The transmission is tinny and distorted, but you can make out the captain’s voice coming from the shuttle’s console.  You can’t reach it - the pilot’s seat is twisted on its support and crushed up against the control panel - and so you grope around for your communicator instead.  You can smell the coppery scent of blood mixed with the acrid tang of smoke and the cloying sweetness of the engine coolant you’re lying in a puddle of and you get the distinct impression that you’re not in a good state.

Locating your comm at last, you groan as the act of bringing it closer to your face causes your entire arm to ache.  You can feel your heartbeat in each one of your fingertips as you clutch the device and depress the transmit button with your thumb.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N to Enterprise,” you croak.  “I read you.”

_Lieutenant, status report; are you hurt?_

You take a moment to take stock of yourself, cataloging all of the tears and spots of blood marring your uniform.  The aches and pains, while substantial, don’t seem to signify any severe damage and your breathing is easy enough.

“Not too badly, I don’t think,” you rasp into your comm.  “The shuttle’s a write-off, though.  There’s a six foot tear in the hull and the port wing is gone.”

_Do you think you can hang on for a while?  The transporter can’t get a lock on you through the storm so we’re doing to have to send a shuttle for you but it could take a while to guide it safely in to your location._

“Yes sir,” you say tiredly.  “I’m mostly sheltered from the storm, I should be fine.”

_Alright Lieutenant.  Hang in there.  Comm us if anything changes.  Kirk out._

You nod even though you know he can’t see you and sag back against the hard deck plating beneath you as the transmission cuts out.  The chill blowing into the cabin is already starting to eat through your uniform but you do your best to ignore it.  Besides, it’s helping to numb some of your aches and for that you’re grateful.

As you lie still in the ever-increasing chill, your memory starts to come back in spots.  A rescue mission, a stranded escape pod containing precious cargo that you and Mr. Sulu had been sent to tow back into low-planetary orbit, and a malfunctioning sensor array.  All the tumbling about as the shuttle bounced through the valley to a stop had dislodged your harness and you’d wound up tossed around inside the cabin.

You grimace as a wave of dizziness claims you while you fight to remember more, drawing you back toward the darkness of unconsciousness.  You resist it for a short while, but eventually you grow too tired of modulating your breathing to fight through the pain and cold and you succumb to the draw.

When you wake again it’s to the sound of a reedy voice coming through your communicator.  It cuts in and out as you come around and you’re confused at first as to where it’s coming from.

_Lieutenant, do you read?_

You attempt to push yourself up into a sitting position but your limbs are numb and stiff.  Instead, you settle for focusing all of your efforts on pushing the button on your comm, succeeding but just barely.

“I read you, Captain,” you stutter, shivers setting in as snow continues to slowly drift into the shuttle on the breeze.

_How are y-_

You hear a scuffle across the airwaves and frown as the transmission is interrupted all together for a few moments.

“Captain?”  You ask weakly, having a hard time focusing.

A different voice comes over the comm a moment later.

_Hey darlin’, I’m going to keep you company for a while instead.  How’s that sound?_

It’s Dr. McCoy and you can’t help but smile a bit, feeling strangely reassured even without his physical presence there.  With Leonard around you feel safe and well-cared for, and even though you’re still afraid that you aren’t going to be rescued before you freeze to death, you feel a sense of peace.

“Hey, Len,” you slur, your tongue feeling thick and heavy from the rapidly worsening hypothermia.

_Talk to me, sweetheart.  Tell me how you’re feeling._

“Cold,” you say thickly.

_I know, darlin’, I’m tracking your vitals from up here and I can tell you’re freezing, which is why you’ve got to keep talking to me.  Are you in any pain?_

You shake your head for a moment before realizing you’re on radio not video.

“Not ‘nymore,” you murmur.  “Too cold.”

_Just hang in there, Y/N; it won’t be much longer.  You’ll be back on the ship before you know it._

“I love you, Len,” you mumble distantly.  “In case I don’ get t’ say it ‘n person.”

_Enough talk like that, darlin’.  You can do this; you’re the strongest person I know._

You fail to respond to his reassurances and can hear him calling your name increasingly frantically with each passing moment as you start to fade from consciousness again.  As you pass out all together, you swear you hear the sound of a shuttle engine nearby but you don’t get the chance to ruminate on it as darkness falls over you.

When consciousness comes to you again it’s much more gradually than it had before, and your head swims as noises start to filter in through the haze.  Voices, garbled like they’re underwater, and the rhythmic, mechanical beeping of some kind of machinery.  A heart monitor, you ponder vaguely.

_A heart monitor._

_The med bay._

You blink your eyes open slowly, your head lolling in a way you’re now certain is being caused by some sort of medication.  Your vision resolves as you look around and as you turn your head you come face to face with a sleeping CMO, his cheek resting against the mattress near your head, his hand loosely gripping yours.  You squeeze it gently and watch as his features screw up in confusion for a moment before he realizes what’s happening and all at once sits upright, opening his eyes to look down at you.  His gaze quickly darts up to the monitors overhead and holds there for a second before coming back down to yours once more as he’s reassured that you’re stable.

“Welcome back, sweetheart,” he says gently, lifting your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles.  “Thought I was going to lose you for a little while there.”

“‘M not goin’ anywhere Doc,” you murmur, the sedative slowing your cognizance to a crawl.  “Can’t get rid o’ me tha’ easily.”

He smiles and stands at your side, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead.  You close your eyes, your heart fluttering a little in response to his attentions.  He’s never shown quite so much affection for you before and you can’t help but wonder why now.

_I love you, Len; in case I don’ get t’ say it ‘n person._

Your eyes snap open again at the memory of your words and you’re met with bright, hazel eyes and a gentle expression.  Leonard is hovering over you, his gaze searching yours as you start to feel a bit of embarrassment at your earlier confession.  As though sensing your chagrin, Leonard, reaches out and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, caressing it softly.

“I love you, too, Y/N,” he says warmly.  “I wish I could have said it under better circumstances for the first time, but if there’s one thing I’ve realized today it’s that life’s too short to wait for opportune moments.”

Your breath catches at his words and it doesn’t escape his notice if his slightly mischievous smile is anything to go by.  Giving you a bit of space and silence in which to absorb his affections, he takes a seat next to you again and resumes holding your hand.  The way he strokes his thumb across your knuckles is soothing and as you focus on it you find yourself being drawn toward sleep once again.

“We’re gon’ talk ‘bout this s’more,” you murmur thickly.  “Now tha’ I’m not dyin’ the walls are goin’ back up, an’ I wanna take it slow.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Leonard says softly.  “We have plenty of time to get to know each other once you’ve recovered.”

Your reply is lost to darkness as slumber claims you.  With Leonard at your side, you rest comfortably and contentedly, reassured by his presence and vigilance.  Your dreams are full of fantasies and futures, and even in sleep you can’t wait to start a whole new chapter of your life aboard the Enterprise when all is said and done.


	7. Bones x Reader - Emotional Pain

You know the drill.

Step one, get out of bed.

Step two, shower.

Step three, do something productive.

You’ve been through it all before, but lately it’s been so much harder to go through the motions.  The ritualism is doing nothing to combat the deep, pervasive depression that has somehow set in in the past few months and you can feel yourself slipping deeper into it with every passing day.  You figure you must be doing a pretty good job of hiding it, though, as no one has expressed any concern for you.  That or no one cares, the though of which makes your heart ache even more.

Sighing, you push yourself up onto your elbows, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed and sitting up after a half hour of staring at the ceiling.  You know you should be excited -  _shore leave starts today_  - but you just can’t find it in yourself to feel anything other than emptiness and numbness.  The anhedonia is not necessarily the worst part of the depression, but coupled with the periodic fugue and the crippling self-doubt and self-hatred, it’s enough to make you want to lie in bed all day and cry.

You stand up eventually, padding over to the bathroom, shedding clothes as you walk along, leaving them all over the floor in front of the bathroom and just adding to the disarray that’s accumulated in the room since your depression had begun to spiral.  Once inside, you studiously avoid catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, knowing the reflection staring back at you will be drawn and haunted.

Stepping into the shower, you opt for real water rather than a sonic spray.  You shiver as it hits you, cold and unforgiving, but you refuse to turn the temperature up in hopes that the chill will snap you out of your slump.  It doesn’t, though, just as it hadn’t the last time, but you relish in the contrast of it against your bed-warm skin anyway, glad to be able to feel something at least.

“Y/N?”  Bones asks having suddenly appeared in the doorway to the bathroom.

You jump, nearly slipping on the shower floor, and brace yourself against the wall.

“Are you trying to kill me?”  You ask.

As you listen over the sound of the water hitting the tile around you, you hear his footfalls near the shower and you watch his shadow loom through the frosted glass enclosure door.

“Sorry,” he says softly.  “I just figured you’d be ready to go by now.”

You reach over to turn off the spray, having long since finished actually washing up anyway.  Running your hands over your face and shaking some of the water off, you pull the enclosure open just far enough to be able to stick your hand out.

“Hand me my towel?”  You ask.

You can see the blurry outline of him moving over to the towel rack and back again and soon you feel the soft terry cloth touch your fingers.  Pulling the towel into the stall with you, you wipe down and wrap it around yourself securely.

“Wait for me in the bedroom?”  You suggest.

Leonard complies wordlessly, stepping out to give you some desperately needed privacy.  You sigh deeply as you move out of the shower, catching a brief, unwanted glimpse of yourself in the mirror.  Your eyes are glassy and red-rimmed from emotion and exhaustion, and you can see sharp, angular lines on your body that weren’t there before.  You realize that your lack of appetite of late is starting to show.

Shaking off the image, you move out into the bedroom where Leonard is seated on the bed, waiting.  He glances up at you as you move over to the closet and you don’t see the concern in his gaze as you turn away from him.  You pick out your clothes in silence and slip them on while still wearing your towel, only dropping it away once your shirt flutters down over your midriff.  You leave it on the floor where you’ve dropped it and scrub a hand over your face as you move over to the bed.

“I take it you’re not feeling like leaving the ship right now,” Leonard says softly after a long few moments of silence.

You shake your head.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, cursing inwardly as your voice immediately cracks and tears threaten.

Leonard is beside you in an instant, though his touch is feather light and hesitant at first.  As you lean into the hand he’s placed on your shoulder, however, you feel his arms wrap around you and pull you against his chest.  His chin comes to rest on your shoulder and he gently nuzzles you, the first shadows of stubble on his cheek rasping against your skin.

“Don’t be sorry, sweetheart,” Leonard murmurs.  “We’ve got a week here, there’s plenty of time to still make it off the ship if you change your mind, and if not, well that’s just fine, too.”

You shake your head, bringing a hand up to your mouth to stifle the sobs that are suddenly choking you.  Your shoulders shake as you collapse back against Leonard, dissolving into tears, feeling your chest tighten as you breathe in short, staccato gasps.

Leonard shifts around so that he can pull you into his lap and wordlessly encourages you to curl up against him.  You rest your head on his shoulder, clinging to his shirt as the sobs continue for a long while, leaving you exhausted and completely empty by their end.  Leonard rubs your back gently and presses his lips to your temple as you calm, making you feel safe and secure.

“Do you want to talk about it?”  He asks softly.

You shrug, pulling away a little so you can take a proper deep breath.

“Not much to talk about,” you say flatly.  “My depression’s just flaring up really badly lately.  I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Are you taking your medication?”  Leonard continues questioning.

“Yeah, but they haven’t been working well for a while now,” you reply.  “I kept meaning to go see Dr. M’Benga to have them changed, but I kept putting it off.  I always procrastinate when I get like this and everything just snowballs.”

“That’s understandable,” Leonard assures you.  “And I won’t push you to do anything you’re not ready for, but I’m here to support you, sweetheart.  Whatever you need from me, just ask.”

Dropping your head into your hands, you take a slow, shaky breath.

“Maybe some reassurance,” you whisper.  “Am I going to be okay?”

Leonard moves closer to you again, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder.  He squeezes it and you reach up, gently resting your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your fingertips, relishing in the warmth and weight of his touch.

“Yes,” he says reassuringly.  “Maybe not today or tomorrow, or even a couple of weeks from now, but at the end of this you’re going to be just fine.  If there’s a nepenthe out there we haven’t found it yet, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get you through this.”

You look up as he finishes speaking, shifting around so that you’re facing him properly, and meet his gaze.  His expression is open, honest, and earnest, and despite the void of despair that’s opened up inside of you, you trust him.  Feeling a little bit lighter than you have in weeks, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a little squeeze.

“I’m all packed and ready to beam down to Risa,” you say slowly.  “I’m not sure I’m up for it just yet, but maybe we can have a picnic up on the observation deck so I can get used to the idea?”

Leonard smiles and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“That sounds like a great idea,” he agrees.

“Why don’t you pack us a lunch while I change?”  You suggest.

“The ship’s running with a skeleton crew right now, darlin’,” Leonard says.  “No one’s going to see you - there’s no need to change.”

“I want to,” you insist.  “Maybe it’ll help me perk up a little.”

Leonard nods at your words and gets to his feet.  He leans in to press one last kiss to your forehead before heading out to your kitchenette while you quickly rush around and change.  You slip into the outfit you were going to put on for your first day on Risa and smooth the wrinkles out of the fabric.  You rush into the bathroom to splash a little bit of cold water on your face to temper the puffiness around your eyes from all the crying and then make your way out into the main area in your quarters.  As you step into the kitchenette, Leonard glances up from where he’s prepared a simple but elegant spread for the two of you.

“You look amazing, sugar,” he says with a smile.  “Ready to go?”

“Ready,” you affirm.

Leonard picks up the bag with the picnic lunch in it and holds out his free hand to you.  You take it and allow him to lead you out of your quarters.  As the two of you make your way to the observation deck and settle down in front of a vast view of stars and distant worlds around you, you allow yourself to feel hopeful for the first time since the whole episode had begun weeks before.  With Leonard at your side, you know that you can pick yourself up again, and you take comfort in the knowledge that if you stumble, he’ll be right there at your side to help get you back on your feet.


	8. Bones x Reader - Natural Disaster

Your heart is pounding furiously as you creep out onto what’s left of a rickety old suspension bridge mere inches above the turbulent floodwaters churning beneath it.  You can feel the force of the countless thousands of tons of water rushing under your feet - the earth is trembling with it and the bridge is rocking and bouncing about.  In spite of your fear, however, you refuse to be deterred.

While aid agencies from around the state are out there saving human lives, you’ve made a promise to take care of the animals that have been uprooted by the flood that had moved in a day ago.  It has already torn homes and businesses to shreds, and there’s no sign of it letting up.  You refuse to let it claim any more lives than you can help.

Focusing on the task at hand, you continue edging toward a cowering kitten perched on a damaged slat near the middle of the bridge.  It’s staring at you with wide, terrified eyes and your heart is breaking more for the poor thing with every passing second.

Stepping forward, you can feel the bridge sagging under your weight, its old cables stretching and straining in their soaked state.  Water is starting to lick up over the slats beneath you and you’re afraid for a moment that you won’t be able to reach the kitten.  Still, you refuse to give up. 

You take another two steps and the kitten is within arm’s reach.  Crouching, holding onto the bridge with one hand, you reach out and pluck the tiny creature up by the scruff of the neck, pulling it in quickly and cradling it against your chest.  It’s drenched, shivering, and crying, but not trying to strain free from your grasp.  Thanking the universe for small victories, you slowly rise to your feet and turn around to make your way back off of the bridge.

You grit your teeth as you slowly step closer to the plateau at the end of the bridge, one foot after the other.  It’s still a few feet above the water and you know you’ll have plenty of time to get to higher ground with the kitten and the other critters in your truck once you reach it, but it feels far away with the water soaking into your boots now.  Taking a slow, steadying breath, you push on, moving a little faster, cradling the kitten and crouching down low to spread out your center of mass a little and make it less likely that you’ll be thrown off of your feet.

The end of the bridge is only about fifteen feet away, and your partner is waiting there for you, his arm out, hand reaching for yours as you move closer to him.  You’re so close, you’re almost there, but instead of taking his hand, your instincts tell you to pass off the kitten first.  It’s a good thing, too, because as your partner takes the little animal, the wooden slats beneath you give way, sending you pitching into the swirling, sloshing floodwaters below.

At first, the intense cold of the water cuts off all coherent through and drives the breath from your lungs.  You’re terrified that you’re about to pass out as your heartbeat suddenly slows, thudding heavily in your chest.  When the reflex wears off, however, you come back to cognizance in a rush, instinctively flapping your arms to try to get to the surface even though you’re not sure which way is up.

Eventually, your arms break the surface and your head soon follows.  You gulp air like you haven’t breathed in hours in case you get pulled under again, but you somehow manage to stay reasonably afloat for a while.  As you’re pulled along by the current, your legs bump and drag across items submerged in the water and you can feel your clothes being shredded as sharp bits of debris cut into your skin.

You continue bumping into objects of all sorts as you’re swept along with the current, desperately reaching out and attempting to grasp anything that might help you get out of the torrent.  You know that hypothermia will start setting in soon and that death will likely follow, and so you kick desperately, screaming for help as you bob along.

You pass a few people trying to make their own way away from the disaster and destruction as the rain pounds on all around you.  None of them are quick enough to help and you grow increasingly anxious as you’re swept downstream.  You occasionally manage to catch yourself on something in the water, but your body is getting so cold that you can barely feel your fingers anymore and you find yourself inevitably losing grip on everything.

As you continue to tumble along, you grow too tired to fight anymore.  You bump into a fallen tree, hooking yourself around the middle, knocking the breath out of your body.  Your eyes drift shut and you’re pulled under the water as the unrelenting current draws you with it.  You think you’re done for sure when your fingertips - still above water - drag across something that feels familiar even through the chill.  It’s a rope and with all that remains of your strength, you curl your fingers around it, holding on tightly and feeling yourself being pulled along upstream against the flow.

Your lungs aren’t able to hold out against the demand to breathe any longer and you reflexively draw in a breath just before your head breaks through to the surface.  You cough and splutter, choking on the muddy, gritty water as you hear someone shouting just above you.

Looking up, blinking the wetness away as you continue to cough, you see a man kneeling on the plateau about two feet overhead, holding the other end of the rope.  He keeps it firmly looped around one hand as he holds the other out to you.

“Take my hand!”  He shouts over the thunderous churning of the floodwaters and torrential rain.  “You’re going to be fine!”

You nod and grit your teeth, reaching up against the tightness in your chest after the coughing fit, clasping palms with the man.  He grips your hand firmly and lets go of the rope, leaning over the edge of the plateau to grasp onto your belt instead, giving you a bit of a boost up out of the water.  As your top half makes it onto the plateau, you grab onto the man’s shirt for purchase, hauling yourself up the rest of the way with his help.

As you clear the water, your arms give out completely and you collapse onto the grass, your chest heaving as you fight to catch your breath after the ordeal of being dragged through the flood.  The man who helped you is at your side in an instant, putting a hand on your shoulder to help roll you onto your back.

“I’ve got you,” he assures you.  “You’re safe, but we’ve got to get out of here.  The water’s rising fast.”

You nod numbly, grimacing as you push yourself up onto your elbows and dizziness sweeps over you.  You pause for a moment and allow the cobwebs to clear before sitting up the rest of the way.  Your savior is on his feet and waiting for you, once again offering you a helping hand.  Taking it gratefully, you allow him to pull you up and you shuffle along beside him as he helps you to a nearby truck.  Under any other circumstance you wouldn’t be caught dead getting into a stranger’s vehicle, but you hope against hope that a crisis like the flood you’re in has brought out the best in people and that he’s truly wanting to help.

As you settle yourself in the passenger seat, he rushes around and jumps in beside you, immediately peeling off and onto a nearby road.  You fumble awkwardly to get the seat belt done up but your hands are still too numb to function well and so you give up, settling for holding on to the door handle instead.

“Are you hurt?”  The man asks.

“I’m not sure,” you whisper, your teeth chattering as the heat inside the vehicle shuts down your body’s compensatory mechanisms and the hypothermia begins really setting in.

“Well, we’ll get you checked out soon enough,” he says softly, reaching out to crank the heat a little more.

“Thanks for saving me,” you say shakily.  “And no offense, but who are you and where are we going?”

“Leonard McCoy,” the man replies.  “We’re getting out of the path of this storm.  My parents’ ranch is about a half hour away.”

“Oh, God,” you say suddenly.  “My partner!  He’s probably freaking out!  He watched me fall into the water.  Do you have a phone?”

Leonard gestures to the cup holders between the seats.  You shoot him a grateful look and pick up the phone awkwardly.  Your hands are trembling so hard you can’t even hit the button to unlock it and you curse, setting it back down.  Leonard reaches out to pick it up instead, keeping his eyes on the road as he holds it up.

“What’s the number?”  He asks.

You recite it to him and he taps it in easily, handing you the phone when he’s done.  You thank him and wait for your partner to pick up.  He does so quickly and you explain the whole situation, watching the trees whip by and the rain ease up as you and Leonard head away from town.  You take a few minutes to ensure that your partner is going to be okay with the rescues and eventually you hang up, replacing the phone in the cup holder.

“We’re here,” Leonard says a few moments later, pulling into a driveway just off the highway.

It’s a long, winding driveway but eventually he pulls up in front of a picturesque little farmhouse.  It looks like the kind of thing you see on the covers of home and garden magazines and you’re immediately enthralled by its latticework porch and climbing ivy.  So enthralled, in fact, that it startles you when Leonard comes around to your side of the vehicle and opens your door.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you,” Leonard says with an easy smile.  “Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes.”

You take his hand and allow him to help you out of the truck.  He stays close as he leads you up to the house and you’re glad for it as your legs are still stiff and shaky.  You follow him over the threshold and through the house to what you assume is a guest bedroom toward the back.

“The bathroom’s through there,” Leonard indicates, pointing to a door at the other side of the room.  “You can put your things in the hamper here for later and I’ll bring you a change of clothes.  You should warm up with a quick shower if you’re feeling up for it, but not too long and not too hot.  I don’t want you passing out.”

You nod along as he speaks and smile gratefully at him as he turns to take his leave.  Once he’s gone, you quickly shed your sopping wet clothes, feeling belatedly guilty for the mess you’ve undoubtedly left in the passenger seat of his truck.  Shrugging it off and leaving yourself a mental note to make it up to him later, you toss your clothes in the laundry hamper and move into the bathroom.

As you step into the shower, you groan loudly at the feeling of the lukewarm water on your skin.  It’s absolute heaven and you simply stand beneath the spray for a long few minutes, letting the dirt and grime run off of you.  The steam rising around you is soothing, but at the same time it creates a tickle in your throat as it irritates the spots that are raw after your choking on the floodwaters and you begin to cough.

Your ribs ache in protest at the sudden paroxysm and you wrap your arms around yourself to splint them a little as your coughing fit slowly winds down.  When it’s over, you’re left winded, sagging against the tile wall as the water continues to run over you.

“Are you alright?”  Leonard shouts from outside the bathroom.

“Fine,” you call back.  “I’ll be right out.”

“Make yourself comfortable when you’re done,” Leonard calls.  “I’ll come by to check on you in a few minutes.”

You spend the last few minutes in the shower quickly washing the dirt off with actual soap and shampoo.  Rinsing off one last time, you step out of the shower and shiver a little before you manage to dry yourself off.  You stop as you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and you frown as you take in the various cuts, scrapes, and bruises that litter your legs and torso.

A few minutes later, you find yourself dry, changed, and sitting propped up in bed with a few pillows cushioning your back.  Leonard’s jogging pants, sweatshirt, and socks are baggy on you but in a cozy way.  You’re busy examining the Ivy League logo on the thigh of the sweatpants when a knock sounds on the door.  

Looking up, you call out for Leonard to enter and watch as he does with a steaming mug of tea in his hands and a small duffel bag of sorts slung over his shoulder.  He sets the mug down on the night stand and deposits the duffel next to the bed before taking a seat on the mattress with his body angled toward you.

“How are you feeling?”  He asks.

“Exhausted,” you answer weakly.

“Are you in pain anywhere?”  He queries further.

“Honestly?  Almost everywhere,” you reply.  “I got tossed around pretty bad.”

“How long were you in the water?”  Leonard continues to question, reaching out to put his hand on yours.

“I fell in at the old suspension bridge in the park,” you reply.  “I was so shaken by the whole experience that I don’t even remember where you picked me up, but it felt like I was in the water forever.”

“I picked you up at the bridge over the river on the east side of town,” Leonard explains.  “That’s a long trip you took.”

You shudder at the memory of being tossed around in the churning waters like a toy sailboat.  As you reflect on the experience, you notice that Leonard’s fingers have slipped to your wrist and your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What are you doing?”  You ask with a vague nod at his hand.

“Checking your pulse,” he replies, glancing down at the watch on his other hand.

“What are you, some kind of doctor?”  You murmur.

He smiles, glancing up at you briefly before focusing again.

“Trauma surgeon,” he answers.

“Oh,” you say wryly.  “My bad.”

Leonard chuckles as he lets go of your wrist and reaches for the duffel at his feet.  You watch as he straightens up again a moment later with a thermometer in hand.  He quickly slips a probe cover onto the end of it and holds it out to you.

“Under your tongue for a minute,” he instructs.

You open your mouth, allowing him to place the thermometer before closing your lips around it and trying not to bite down.  As you wait, you watch Leonard pull a handful of supplies out of what you now assume to be some sort of a med kit and you pout a little as the gauze and wound wash solution come out, knowing you’re going to have to sit through a lot of stinging and smarting if he’s going to be cleaning out all of the various wounds you’ve acquired.

After setting everything aside, he turns his attention back to you and takes the thermometer away, glancing down at the scale.

“Still a little hypothermic,” he comments.  “Nothing a few blankets and some hot tea won’t fix.”

You sit patiently still for the next couple of minutes, too tired to insist that you’re fine, letting Leonard check you over for injuries with warm, deft hands.  You occasionally hiss or wince as his careful fingers find particularly tender spots, but overall you’re comforted by his touch and presence.

“Looks like you got off in one piece, aside from maybe a cracked rib or two,” Leonard expresses as he finishes.  “How’s your breathing?”

You take a moment to take a slow, deep breath, coughing a little bit but otherwise not feeling encumbered.

“Okay, I think,” you reply.

You watch Leonard pull a stethoscope from his med kit.

“I’d like to listen to your lungs, if that’s alright,” he says softly.  “You breathed in a lot of water before I pulled you out, and if any of that water reached your lungs it could cause them to fill with fluid.  I just want to be sure you’re not at risk.”

You give your consent with a nod and sit up away from the pillows at your back as Leonard slips the stethoscope on.  He leans in closer to you, resting a hand gently on your shoulder as he reaches behind you to slip the stethoscope under the hemline of the sweatshirt.  You shiver as he presses it to your back and comply easily as he asks you to take one deep breath after another.

Before long, Leonard finishes his exam and sits back to give you space once again, stashing his stethoscope away.  

“Your lungs sound clear for now,” he explains as he moves to pull on a pair of gloves.  “But I’d like to check again in a few hours just to make sure they stay that way.  In the meantime, let’s take care of all these gashes.”

As Leonard starts drenching gauze pads in an antiseptic solution, you shimmy down so you’re lying flat, staring up at him, watching the way his brow furrows as he concentrates on his work.  Now that you’re out of harm’s way and resting, you really have a chance to appreciate your knight in shining armor.

“So where are your parents, then?”  You ask.  “I would’ve thought they’d be waiting to see you home safe from that storm if this is their farmhouse.”

Leonard’s expression turns faraway and a sad smile pulls at the corners of his lips for a moment.

“They’re gone,” he replies.  “They left the house to me and I just couldn’t bear to sell it yet.  It’s a good thing, I suppose - gave us somewhere to hide away from the flood.”

Your heart drops at his words and you feel momentarily sick with horror at your own question.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur.  “I’m so stupid; it wasn’t my place to ask.”

Leonard looks up at you from where he’s carefully dressing a few of the wounds he’s cleaned on your arm so far.

“It’s alright,” he assures you.  “Don’t be hard on yourself on my account, sugar.”

“Still,” you say softly.  “I’m sorry.”

Leonard smiles and averts his gaze, getting back to work.  You let him work in relative silence, watching him as his skilled hands make quick work of the litany of injuries on your body, taking care of all the worst ones and leaving the very minor ones to heal on their own.

“Thank you,” you say emphatically as he packs his kit away.  “For everything.  I’m a total stranger to you and you’ve done so much for me.”

Leonard grins, bringing his gaze up to look at you as he zips his med kit closed.

“You’d be less of a stranger if you told me your name,” he teases.

You can feel the blood draining from your face in horror as you realize that you never introduced yourself in return back in the truck when you’d asked his name.  He can clearly see that his words have rattled you and he reaches out to put a reassuring hand on your knee.

“Y/N,” you say in a rush.  “Oh my God, I am  _so_  sorry.  I can’t believe I was so rude.”

Leonard shakes his head with a laugh.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he reasons.  “I can cut you some slack.”

You sigh and avert your gaze, still cursing yourself inwardly.

“The storm isn’t going to be letting up for at least a day or two,” Leonard offers.  “You’re more than welcome to stay here until it passes and things settle down back in town.  If you do, we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“I can’t impose on you like that,” you start to say, but he holds up a hand to stop you.

“I insist,” he says firmly.  “I won’t keep you here against your will, but if you do decide to stay I can keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t suffer any aftereffects of the near-drowning.”

You consider his words for a moment, but you can’t help being somewhat distracted by the hand he has resting on your knee.  His touch is warm and gentle, and it’s a welcome reassurance after everything you’ve been through.  Looking up to meet Leonard’s gaze again, you relent with a nod.

“Okay,” you agree.  “I’d love to stay a while.  On one condition, though - you let me repay you somehow when all this is over.”

“That’s really not necessary,” he insists.

“It’ll make me feel better,” you say with a pout.  “Please?  At least let me make you dinner; I’m a pretty good cook.”

Leonard chuckles and nods, giving your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Alright,” he agrees.  “That sounds great.”

You smile, relieved, and let yourself sag into the plush feather bed beneath you.  As you do so, Leonard’s hand slips from your knee and he gets to his feet, moving over to the closet at the opposite side of the room.  You watch him as he pulls a couple of thick, fluffy blankets from the top shelf and returns to your bedside.

“In the meantime, you need some rest,” he says softly, shaking out one of the blankets and draping it over you.  “I’ll come by and check on you in a little while.”

You nod as he drapes the second blanket over you, too, and shift around until you’re comfortable.  As the warmth starts to sink in, the tension leaves your muscles and you find yourself being drawn into slumber.  As you teeter on the brink between the waking world and sleep, your eyes flutter closed and you pull the blankets right up to your chin.

“Thank you,” you murmur one last time, your words trailing off as sleep claims you.

Leonard smiles softly, watching you for a few moments to ensure you’re resting peacefully before turning to leave the room.  As he closes the door behind him with one last glimpse at you, he can’t help but feel excited about the prospect of spending more time with you.  Though your first meeting may not have been under ideal circumstances, he hopes that the future holds more promise and chuckles softly at the whole situation.

Sometimes fate works in mysterious ways.


	9. Bones x Reader - Hostage Situation

You worry absentmindedly with the hem of your shirt as you watch the Romulan soldier who is holding you and several others captive pace the length of the room with his weapon clutched tightly in hand, ready to discharge at any moment.  It’s been hours since you’d first been taken hostage and your anxiety is growing with every passing second.

“What’s taking them so long?”  The Romulan man barks.

“We’re on shore leave,” a woman to your left says, her glare fierce as she stares at the Romulan.  “The Enterprise is running at less than half capacity, and no one’s tracking our whereabouts down here.”

The Romulan stalks over, bearing down on her.  He lets go of his weapon with one hand, reaching out to fist it in her ponytail instead, pulling her up onto her knees and getting into her face.

“Well then I guess it’s time we do something to get their attention,” he snarls, regarding her for another long moment before shoving her back down against the wall.

You watch him stalk away, carefully creeping over to the woman before he can turn back to face you again.  Settling yourself in beside her, pulling your knees up to your chest, you meet her gaze.

“Are you okay?”  You whisper.

She nods, anger blazing in her eyes as her gaze briefly flicks to the soldier before turning back to you.

“Fine,” she replies.  “You?”

You shrug, holding out your palms.

“A little scraped up,” you explain, wincing as the air hits the raw abrasions on your skin.  “Scared.”

Her expression softens and she reaches out to put a hand on your knee, squeezing it gently.

“It’ll be okay,” she promises.  “My captain will get us out of here.”

You nod, hoping she’s right, and turn your attention to the group of Romulan soldiers who have gathered at the front of the room.  Their voices echo around the atrium of the cathedral you’re being held hostage in and it’s making you feel claustrophobic.  

As the soldiers patch a call through to somewhere, bringing up an image of a man in Starfleet’s token command gold, you put your head down and want to cry at your terrible luck.  All you had wanted to do this afternoon had been to check out some of the ancient Risan ruins before going back to your hotel room to relax for a while.  You had never once imagined you’d find yourself trapped in a cathedral with a number of other tourists.

“What’s your name?”  The woman beside you asks, sensing your distress.

“Y/N,” you answer.

“Y/N,” she repeats softly.  “I’m Nyota.  I know you’re scared, but I promise you that everything will be alright.  We’ll be out of here soon.  The man on the screen there is my captain, and I trust him.  He’ll get us out safely.”

You sigh shakily, brushing away a few errant tears and doing your best to calm the trembling that’s wracking your body as your anxiety mounts.  You realize that whatever exchange had been going on between Nyota’s captain and the Romulans is over, and you curse yourself for missing the dialogue.

The minutes continue to tick by without incident and you can see the soldier in charge growing angrier.  He snaps eventually, relaying an order to one of the others.  It’s in Romulan and you don’t understand it, but Nyota curses next to you like she knows what’s happening.  

“We can’t let them get away with this,” she mutters, gritting her teeth and pushing away from the wall to get to her feet.

You watch as she storms toward the soldiers clustered near the altar and without regard for your own safety, you scramble after her to stop her.  It’s too late, though.  You’ve been noticed.

“Hey, asshole!”  Nyota shouts at the man in charge.  “You can’t do this!  Destroying protected ruins is considered an act of war against the Federation.”

The soldier and his entourage march toward the two of you, weapons held at the ready.

“The Federation started this war when they failed to protect Romulus,” he snaps.  “The Federation demonstrated its hostility toward what remained of my people when the Enterprise forced the destruction of the Narada.”

“What, you think you and your little army stand a chance against the Federation?”  Nyota probes further.  “You don’t stand a chance.”

“There are many more of us scattered across the many worlds,” the soldier snaps.  “And many more still who will fight for our cause by our sides.”

You reach Nyota and grab her arm, attempting desperately to pull her back.  You’ve only known her for a few minutes, but you can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her or any of the others.  As you pull at her, the commander shifts his gaze to you.

“This isn’t your fight,” he snarls.  “Back off.”

You’re frozen in place as all of the soldiers’ gazes turn to you and you whimper.  When you fail to step back, the commander gestures in your direction and one of the other soldiers steps in, grabbing you firmly by the wrist and yanking you back.  You cry out in pain as he forcibly drags you back toward the wall, your heart beating frantically in fear and desperation.

“Stay down,” the soldier orders.

You barely have time to register his words before he jerks on your arm and throws you into the wall.  Your head connects firmly with the stone and pain explodes in your skull.  Your vision begins to swim and you feel sick to your stomach.  As you tumble to the ground, you hear a thunderous noise in the distance - an explosion, you think - and the soldiers all glance around in surprise.  The last thing you recall as you black out from the impact is shouting and the sound of stone and glass falling to the ground all around you in a deadly shower.

A while later - you’re not quite sure how long - you slowly start to come around.  You can hear unfamiliar sounds and voices, and when you try to open your eyes you’re nearly blinded by a glaring light overhead.  You can feel someone touching you and suddenly the memories of the hostage situation start flooding back to you.  Panicking, you start to thrash weakly, attempting to pull away from the hands holding you down.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” a man’s voice says to you over the din.  “You’re safe now.”

You force your eyes open and weakly put up a hand to shield them, blinking a few times and attempting to make out the person bending over you through the dust in the air.

“Who are you?”  You croak.  “How do you know my name?”

“I’m Dr. McCoy,” he replies as he carefully reaches underneath you, his fingers prodding at your head and neck to check for signs of trauma.  “Lieutenant Uhura told me who you are, and how brave you were.”

“Who?”  You ask, confused.

The doctor points off to the side and you turn your head as he moves on to assessing your ribs for breaks.  Your gaze lands on Nyota a short distance away and when she catches you looking in her direction she smiles warmly.  You smile back briefly before returning your attention to the doctor who is cast in a halo by a break in the ceiling overhead that’s letting in a beam of sunlight.

“Is it over?”  You mumble.

“It’s over,” Dr. McCoy assures you.  “Now we’re just working on getting you out of here.  The Romulans have jammed our transporter so we’re going to carry you out of here.  We need to take you back to the Enterprise to take a look at your injuries.”

Your entire body aches and you shake your head at the thought of being taken off to a strange ship full of people you don’t know.  After the day you’ve had, there’s no way you’re willing to put your life in a stranger’s hands.  Dr. McCoy seems to notice your trepidation, though, and he reaches up to put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I know you’re scared,” he acknowledges softly.  “But it’s going to be okay.  You’re going to have to trust me, though.  Can you do that?”

You chew your lip as you consider his words, tears springing to your eyes.  Your heart is thudding heavily in your chest and you want so badly to just get up and walk away on your own, but you know you’re too battered and bruised up to do so.  With a sigh, you swallow thickly and nod at last, earning yourself a warm smile from Dr. McCoy.

“Good,” he says gently.  “That’s good.  Alright, darlin’, now you just lie still and let us do all the work.  We’ll be out of here in no time.”

You’re confused at first, wondering what he means by we, but then you notice another man on your other side, out of your immediate line of sight.  He’s wearing a white uniform with medical insignia on his chest and you realize he must be a medic of some sort.  Once you’re better adjusted to the idea of being moved, you do your best to relax as the two men carefully maneuver you onto a stretcher.  It’s painful and you can’t stop the small noises of discomfort as they escape your lips.

“Just a little longer, sugar,” Dr. McCoy assures you.  “Close your eyes and take some deep breaths for me.”

Following his instructions, you take slow, deep, measured breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth as you feel yourself being lifted off of the ground.  Your heart is still racing away as you bump along, hearing bits of stone and glass skittering around as the men carrying you kick them away.  

Getting out of the cathedral over the litter of debris from the explosion you’d heard earlier is slow going, but eventually you feel the kiss of sunlight on your exposed skin as you finally reach the courtyard.  The men continue along in relative silence until they’re past the main gates to the ruins.  Once they’re far enough away and at a place where the transporter signal is no longer being jammed, they carefully set you down.  You can hear Dr. McCoy clear the three of you for transport through a communicator and shortly thereafter you’re flying.

You rematerialize on a transporter deck and groan a little as your molecules set back together, reminding you of all of your aches and pains from being thrown around.  You watch the rivets in the ceiling go by through half-lidded eyes as you’re immediately carried from the platform and down a hallway.  A short turbo lift ride later you’re being carried through a set of sliding doors and moved onto a bio bed.

“How’re you doing, sweetheart?”  Dr. McCoy asks as he starts moving around the bed, running scans.

“I feel sick,” you murmur, grimacing as another wave of nausea grips you.

“I’m not surprised,” he says softly, turning to the nurse at his side and issuing an order for some medication before continuing on with his scans.  “You’ve got a concussion.”

The nurse returns a moment later and hands him a hypo, which he holds up in your line of sight, asking for permission to administer it.  You give it, and within seconds he’s dosing you with the good stuff.  In the seconds that follow the pinch of the hypospray against your neck, your aches and pains start to fade away and your nausea settles, leaving you feeling sleepy and relaxed.  Letting your head loll to the side a little, you watch Dr. McCoy as he studies the numbers on the display above the bio bed with a satisfied expression on his face.

“That’s what I like to see,” he says warmly.  “Your vitals are coming down to normal.”

You haven’t a clue what that’s supposed to mean, but his tone assures you that it’s a good thing.

“Am I okay?”  You ask, slurring your words slightly from the strength of the pain medications you’ve received.  “Can I go back to my hotel soon?”

“You’ve got a few cuts and scrapes,” the doctor explains.  “But nothing a little time under a dermal regenerator won’t fix.  I’d like to monitor you for a day or so just to make sure you don’t wind up with complications from the concussion, but after that you’ll be free to go.”

You let out a long breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding and let the relief wash over you.  As you relax a bit, the doctor gets to work on your wounds, carefully mending them with the regenerator after his nurse has finished cleaning them out.  You watch him work, noticing for the first time just how handsome he is and how gentle and competent his hands are.

“So what happened to the men that took us hostage?”  You ask, your voice thick with exhaustion.

“A few of them were killed,” he explains.  “The rest are locked up in the brig.”

You let out a shaky breath as you think of how close you came to being killed yourself.  Still, you’re relieved to hear that the men who took you hostage are no longer an active threat.

“Their commander,” you say slowly.  “He said that there were more of them.  Romulans.  He said that they’re angry that the Federation couldn’t save their planet, and about one of their ships.”

“The Narada,” the doctor says, his brow knitting in disapproval.  “Yeah, I can imagine they’re not too happy with us.”

“Is it safe to go back to Risa?” You ask.

“Starfleet is sending a vessel to patrol the area for a while to make sure the peace is kept,” he explains.  “They have no reason to believe there are any other rogue soldiers in the area, and they’ll do their best to ensure it stays that way.”

You’re not convinced, and you run a shaky hand through your hair as the doctor goes to work on the last of your wounds.  Your anxiety is creeping back up despite the medications and it’s clear that Dr. McCoy can tell by the way he addresses you again, his voice soft.

“If you’re worried, we’d be happy to take you aboard and bring you to Yorktown,” the doctor offers.  “There’s no reason you should have to stay somewhere you don’t feel safe.”

“That’s very kind,” you murmur.  “But I don’t want to be a bother.  You’ve already done so much in rescuing me and putting me back together.”

“It’s not a bother,” Dr. McCoy assures you.  “Starfleet is here to help make space a safer place, and more than that, our captain cares about each and every person whose lives we enter.”

You rest your hand on your abdomen as he finishes working on the abrasions there, wincing a little at the sensitivity of the newly mended skin.

“What about you?”  You ask after a few beats of silence.  “How do you feel about being such a big part of people’s lives?”

Dr. McCoy smiles and steps closer to your bed, his eyes sweeping over your features as though committing you to memory.

“It makes me happy knowing I’ve made a difference,” he replies.  “And I’d be happy to do more, if you’d let me.”

You bite your lips, considering everything - his words, the offer of safe passage.  It’s a lot to take in, and while you’re still anxious about being around a ship full of people you don’t know, you have to admit that the thought of getting to spend a little more time around Dr. McCoy is tempting.  You can feel his warmth and genuineness in his words and in the gentle, conscientious way he handles you.

“Okay,” you agree at last.  “If the offer is still good, I’d like to head to Yorktown with your crew.”

His expression brightens a little more and he nods, reaching out to put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Great,” he says, relief underscoring his tone.  “I’ll let the captain know.”

As he turns to leave your bedside, you reach out, grasping at the wrist of his tunic and holding him back.  He stops, immediately turning back to face you, concerned once more.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you say quickly, before he can worry too much.

He chuckles softly as he realizes you’re not in any sort of discomfort and nods.

“Please, call me Leonard,” he says.

You smile.

“Thank you, Leonard.”


	10. Bones x Reader - Insomnia

You groan loudly as your alarm goes off, rousing you from a very troubled, restless sleep.  Cracking one eye open, you peer at the chron on your bedside table and realize that you’ve only been asleep for about forty five minutes.

The thought of having to go into work makes you want to cry.  You haven’t had a good night’s sleep in over two weeks, and every day reading through reports and transcribing various departmental logs has grown increasingly difficult.  You know you’re not going to have a productive day at this rate and so after having the same debate with yourself over the last week’s worth of mornings, you finally decide to cave in and call your supervisor to let them know you need a day off.  You hate calling in sick, but at this point it’s stay in bed or fall asleep on the job, and you hate the thought of the latter even more.

Rolling over with a groan after sending your supervisor a message, you pull your covers up over your head and do your best to get back to sleep.  Your efforts are largely in vain, however, and after about an hour of tossing, turning, and dozing fitfully, you roll out of bed and run a hand over your face, giving up on the idea of sleep entirely.

Hauling yourself out of bed, you plod toward the bathroom and hope that a shower will wake you up.  Stripping down, you toss your clothes haphazardly in the hamper and turn on the sonic, stepping into the shower enclosure.  It’s not the same as a proper shower, but it’ll have to do.  Still grumbling inwardly, you make sure not to miss an inch and then you climb out of the shower again, wrapping yourself in a bathrobe and moving to the sink.

You grimace as you notice how drawn and glassy-eyed you look.  The shower has done nothing to improve the puffiness around your eyes or the weary expression you can’t seem to shake and you make a small noise of disgust as you peel yourself away from the mirror in favor of brushing your teeth.  It only takes you a minute, even as you studiously avoid catching another glimpse of your reflection, and before long you drag yourself back into the bedroom feeling no more refreshed than you had earlier.

After getting dressed in the most worn and comfortable clothes you have in your closet, you trek into the kitchenette and replicate yourself a strong cup of coffee.  You carry it into the living room and set it on the table to cool as you pull out your PADD and open a mindless game to give yourself something to do.  As you play, muttering curses every time you lose, you nurse your coffee and wait for a wakefulness that you know from experience will never come.

At some point, you finally nod off.  Your coffee stands cooling on the table and your PADD slips out of your grasp, landing on the couch.  Even the doze is fitful and you twitch in your sleep as your neck slowly tightens up into an uncomfortable series of knots from how your head is resting, chin to chest.  Nightmares plague you and you murmur in your sleep, running from some imagined terror.

Eventually, though your sleep is still completely restless, you slip more deeply into unconsciousness, so much so that you don’t rouse when someone knocks on the door to your quarters.

Out in the hallway, Leonard stands in front of your door, frowning when you fail to respond to his knocks.  He’d asked after you when he went to pick you up for lunch at your desk and found you absent from your post.  He’s reasonably sure you’re in your quarters and your lack of response is worrying.  He stands there for several minutes, debating whether or not to invoke the use of his medical override to enter your quarters and eventually decides that he’d rather be safe than sorry.  Punching his code in, silently cursing the paperwork he’ll have to do later to justify its use, Leonard steps into your quarters.

Once inside, it takes him only a moment to find you as the soft sounds of your whimpers draw his gaze right to where you’re curled up on the couch.  He makes his way over to you, taking in your bedraggled appearance and the fine sheen of perspiration on your skin.  Sitting down beside you, he reaches out to gently touch the back of his hand to  your forehead, checking for a fever.  Relieved to find no signs of one, he reaches instead for your shoulder and begins to shake you gently.

“Wake up, Y/N,” he urges softly.  “It’s just a bad dream.”

It takes him a few moments to rouse you and when you come around it’s with a loud gasp.  Your eyes widen as your head snaps up and you moan when your neck twinges in protest at the sharp movement.  Reaching up, you rub at the sore spot as you orientate yourself, taking in the sight of Leonard sitting beside you.

“Hey,” you rasp tiredly.  “What’s going on?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Leonard explains.

“I know that,” you croak sarcastically.  “I was there.  I meant what are you doing here?”

“I swung by your desk to pick you up for lunch like I do every day,” Leonard replies.  “You weren’t there so I asked Lieutenant Nakamura if she’d seen you and she said you’d called in sick.  You weren’t answering when I knocked and I got worried.”

His response is totally reasonable and you nod, grimacing again as you shift around and sit up, reaching out for your now-cold cup of coffee.  You drain what’s left of it and make a face at its bitter taste, setting your mug aside again.

“I meant to call you this morning and tell your lunch was off,” you murmur.  “I guess it must have slipped my mind.  I’m sorry, Len.  I’ll make it up to you.”

Leonard shakes his head and you chew your lip as you feel his gaze sweeping over you, assessing and scrutinizing.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he says softly.  “I was just worried about you.  Are you feeling alright?”

You nod and avert your gaze, resting your hands in your lap and absentmindedly playing with the hem of your threadbare, over sized, old Starfleet Academy sweater.

“I just wasn’t feeling up to going in to work today,” you assure him.  “Had a bit of a rough night last night.”

Leonard reaches out to gently nudge your chin, encouraging you to look up.  You can see the concern and empathy in his eyes and you sigh.

“How long has it been since you slept?”  He asks.

“About five minutes,” you reply, referring to when he’d roused you from your nap a short while ago.

Leonard rolls his eyes and drops his hand to your knee, resting it there.

“I mean since you got a good night’s sleep,” he clarifies.

You chew your lip thoughtfully as you consider the last time you felt really well and truly rested.

“Two weeks,” you reply sheepishly.  “Maybe three.”

Leonard’s expression softens a little and he moves closer, reaching up to brush your hand away from where you’re kneading at your sore neck, taking over doing it for you with skilled and gentle fingers.

“Why didn’t you say something?”  Leonard asks.  “I could have given you something to help you sleep.  There’s no reason you should have to suffer through insomnia in this day and age.”

“I guess I’m just used to it,” you say with a shrug.  “I get this way for a few weeks once or twice a year.  I’ve never really figured out what triggers it, but it always eventually goes away on its own.  I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“Your well being  _is_  a big deal, darlin’,” Leonard stresses.  “I always want to know when something’s up.  I want to help in whatever way I can.”

You smile softly and nod, leaning into his gentle massage as he works the kink out of your neck.

“You’re already helping,” you assure him.  “That feels really nice.”

“Maybe you’ll let me help a little more?”  He suggests.  “You were napping when I got here.  Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?  I can loosen some of the tension in your shoulders for you.  Maybe it’ll help you sleep.”

You consider his words, relishing the thought of his hands on you, easing all of the tightness that’s built up over the last several weeks.

“A massage?”  You ask.  “How can I resist?”

Leonard chuckles and takes his hand away from your neck.  He stands up instead, offering you a hand up, pulling you easily to your feet.  He leads you into the bedroom and gestures to the bed, encouraging you to lie down.  You crawl in under the covers and push them down to your waist, leaving your top half exposed as you situate yourself face down with your arms crossed under your head.

Leonard moves onto the bed, kneeling beside you and rubbing his palms together to create more heat before resting his hands on either of your shoulders.  You can feel the heat from his palms radiating into your skin through the thin sweatshirt you’re wearing and you close your eyes contentedly as he carefully begins to work all of the knots out of your shoulders.

The longer Leonard works on kneading your tense, aching muscles, the more warm, content, and sleepy you start to feel.  Eventually, you start nodding off and your soft snores alert Leonard to the fact that you’re relaxing into a doze.  He continues massaging for a little while anyway, slowly applying less and less pressure so you don’t wake up at the sudden absence of his touch.  When your breathing finally slows to a deep, steady rhythm, he lets go all together and climbs off of the bed, pulling the covers up to keep you warm.

Making his way into your kitchenette, Leonard pulls a notepad and pen out of one of your drawers, hastily scribbling you a little note to message him when you wake up since he’s still got a shift to finish.  He leaves you a doctor’s order to hydrate and eat a nice, hearty lunch when you wake up and then quietly slips back into the bedroom, folding the note in half and propping it on your bedside table.  Leaning in closer, he presses a gentle kiss to your temple before quietly making his way out of your quarters and heading back to the med bay.

You wake up an hour or so after Leonard leaves and lie still for a few minutes while consciousness claims you.  It’s so warm and comfy in your bed after the massage that you don’t want to move just yet, and you finally only clamber out of bed when you have to use the bathroom.  As you swing your legs over the edge, you notice Leonard’s note and you pick it up, unfolding the paper to read its contents.

Your smile grows as you read on, feeling a little thrill at the prospect of seeing Leonard again after his shift.  You know he probably intends to come by and give you a hypo full of something to let you sleep through the night, but it’s his companionship that appeals to you more than anything.

You set the note aside and stand up, feeling more refreshed than you have in a long time even on just one good, solid nap.  As you make your way into the bathroom, you let your thoughts drift to later on in the evening and to the cuddles you’re going to badger Leonard for.  With him by your side, you’re sure the insomnia will be nothing but a memory by the next morning.


	11. Kirk x Reader - Heartbeat

You curse as you sprint down the streets of the ancient alien city you and your crew have been exploring for the past couple of days, glancing over your shoulder as echoes of Klingon footfalls ring in the desert air around you.  The heat is nearly unbearable, the rays of the overhead sun making mirages dance across the ground in front of you as you move.  You can feel yourself slowing down, your muscles screaming in protest and dehydration, but you power on in spite of it all; if you don’t, you’ll die.

You haven’t glimpsed any of your crew mates in the last little while and you can’t help but worry that they’ve been captured like you’re afraid you’re about to be.  The whole situation had come as a surprise and had left you all scrambling, unprepared, away from the Klingon onslaught.

It had all started about an hour ago.  Your team had beamed down to the surface to examine the ruins of an ancient alien civilization in what you had assumed was an uninhabited solar system.  An analysis of a number of glyphs had revealed the ruins to be those of a previously undocumented race.  Your team had been in the middle of documenting everything and translating the glyphs when a Klingon war bird had dropped out of warp and sent in a landing party of their own.  Apparently you’d been expected to know the Klingons had annexed the planet some number of years back, though how you were supposed to know was beyond you.  Shortly thereafter a firefight had broken out and you’d all been sent scrambling, leaving your equipment behind in an attempt at finding cover.  Since then, you’d run around countless corners and ducked behind dozens of crumbling walls without success.

Now, you’re running out of steam.  Your steps are growing shorter, your legs becoming lazy under the enormous strain you’ve been placing on them.  Your lungs are ablaze with agony, too, and you’re sure you’re about to collapse.  Before you can give up, however, you feel hands closing around your upper arm.  You’re pulled off balance and yanked to the side, nearly toppling over as you collide with another body.  You’re about to scream, terrified that one of the Klingons has grabbed you, but a hand claps over your mouth to silence you as an arm wraps around your chest and pulls you in close to whoever it is that’s snatched you off of the street.

“Be quiet,” your captain’s voice hisses into your ear.  “Stay close.”

Relief floods through you at the sound of a familiar voice and you sag back against his chest, still struggling against the hand on your mouth as it impedes your breathing.

“I’m going to pull my hand away,” Jim whispers.  “But you can’t make any noise or they’ll find us.”

You nod, doing your best to control your breathing as Jim slowly slips his hand down, splaying his palm across your chest instead.  The two of you stand in silence, sheltered by a crumbling column.  You can still hear footfalls and phaser fire all around you, and you pat around desperately for your comm, cursing inwardly when you realize it’s been lost in the fray.

“Your heart is racing,” Jim murmurs softly, and it’s then that you become acutely aware of it reverberating against his hand.

“I’ve been running for fifteen minutes,” you say quietly.  “And I don’t know about you, but I’m just a little bit scared for my life.”

The small matter of  _your arms around me aren’t helping, either_  goes unsaid.

“I’ve got my comm,” Jim explains hurriedly, finally loosening his grip on you so you can turn to face him.  “I can have Scotty beam you up.  The rest of the crew and I will join you shortly.”

You shake your head.

“If we divide and conquer, we’ll be back on Enterprise safe and sound twice as fast,” you argue.  “But, we need a plan.”

Jim looks like he wants to argue, but he knows you’re right, and though you’re not a tactical officer in any way, you help him come up with a plan.  It’s not without its risks, but it’s the best one you’ve got.  Taking Jim’s phaser for protection but leaving him with his comm to coordinate with Enterprise, you meet his gaze for one last moment.

“If I die, I just want you to know it was nice having the chance to get so close to you,” you say awkwardly, feeling heat flood your face as you avert your gaze.  “I wish it had been under better circumstances, but…”

Jim has the audacity to laugh.

“If it wasn’t this, it’d be something else,” Jim whispers, smiling wryly.  “If you haven’t noticed, I’m always running into trouble somewhere.  This is as good a time as any, and when we get back on the ship I promise to stay out of trouble long enough that we can get even closer, if you’re interested.”

Well, now, if that wasn’t a reason to stay alive.

“Deal,” you reply.  “Let’s move.”

Jim nods and jerks his head to the North to indicate where he wants you.  You move into position and watch his back as he makes his way out onto the open road he’d pulled you off of.  Once he’s safely across it and out of sight, you take a deep breath and turn around, scuttling off in the other direction and doing your best to go unnoticed.

The next twenty minutes go by in a blur.  You can hear angry exchanges between the Klingons and a few scattered phaser shots but nothing that worries you overmuch.  You’re safe, the handful of crewmen you’ve collected are safe, and you know Jim is smart enough to stay safe, too, so you simply focus on getting to the rendezvous point.

Another few minutes go by before you finish your sweep of your half of the village, finding no more members of your landing party along the way.  Having cleared the village, you and the others head to the spot you and Jim had agreed on just outside of town.  He and the crew members he’s rounded up are already waiting, and a quick head count tells you that you’ve found everyone.  A few have cuts, scrapes, and phaser burns, but no overwhelming injuries.

“Are we clear to beam out?”  Jim asks as you jog over to him with the others in tow.

“We couldn’t retrieve all of our equipment, but we’re clear,” you reply.

Jim nods and flips open his comm.  As he gets a hold of the Enterprise you hear a rustling in some brush behind you.  Spinning on your heel you catch a flash of movement just before you hear the telltale sound of a phaser firing.  Before you can react, you feel the searing agony of a phaser burn across your upper arm and you cry out.  Another noise sounds but this time you feel another body collide with yours instead of a plasma round.  You grit your teeth as the two of you hit the ground and tumble a short distance, exacerbating the pain in your arm.  As a third shot sounds, you both see and feel the golden threads of the transporter wrap around you and whoever it is that’s tackled you.

The two of you land unceremoniously on the Enterprise’s transporter pad moments later and you groan as you roll away from the person you’ve landed beside.  Orientating yourself to you surroundings, you realize your savior is the captain and you immediately scramble over to him, apology written on your features.

“Captain, sir, I’m so sorry,” you say hastily, ignoring the medical team that’s surrounding the two of you.

Jim smiles brightly and shoots you a wink.

“No need for apologies,” the captain dismisses.  “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have on top of me.”

You feel your face heat and before you can respond, the medical team is hauling you to your feet and directing you down the halls toward med bay.  In all the fray you don’t notice that Jim is right behind you, and you resign yourself to your fate.

Once in med bay you’re caught in a flurry of activity.  Nurses are directing you to a bio bed, Dr. McCoy is hovering over you with a tricorder and a holoscanner, and others still are prepping protoplasers and dermal regenerators.  It doesn’t take the CMO very long to pronounce you stable and fit to return to quarters after a dermal regen treatment, and it’s only once you have some pain meds on board and are being patched up that you notice the captain hanging out near the foot of your bed.

“Sir?”  You say in confusion.

“Please, call me Jim,” he says warmly.  “Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Aside from an elevated heart rate which I’m confident will resolve with a little bit of rest,” Dr. McCoy interjects.  “She’ll be just fine.”

Jim smiles toothily and exchanges a knowing glance with you, assuring you that he’s well aware of the effect that his proximity, rather than the latent stress, is having on your vitals.

“You, on the other hand, I’ve yet to determine,” Dr. McCoy presses on.  “Have a seat, Jim.”

The captain’s expression is one of displeasure at the CMO’s order.

“You’re the only one on this ship who can pull rank on me,” Jim complains.  “I hate that you use your powers for evil.”

Dr. McCoy rolls his eyes as he all but manhandles the captain onto the nearest unoccupied bio bed.

“You can hate me later,” the doctor says briskly.  “Right now I need you to relax.”

Jim looks over at you, flashing you a brilliant, coy smile and a quick wink.

“Whatever you say, Bones,” Jim says with an eye roll of his own.  “Just be quick, I’ve got some  _debriefing_  to do…”

Your face heats at Jim’s words, knowing full well the kind of debriefing you’re going to get shortly if his reputation is anything to go by, and you do your best to look innocent as the monitor on your bio bed gives a few chirps with your once-again rising heart rate.


End file.
